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INIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT    LOS  ANGELES 


v\ 


SHINING  FERRY 


BOOKS   BY   "Q" 

[ARTHUR   T.   QUILLER-COUCH) 

Published  by  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Fort  Amity $1.50 

Two  Sides  of  the  Face 1.50 

The  Adventures  of  Harry  Revel     ....  1.50 

The  White  Wolf  and  Other  Fireside  Tales  1.50  ' 

The  Laird's  Luck  and  Othkr  P'ireside  Tales  1.50 

Old  Fires  and  Pkofitahlk  Ghosts     ....  1.50 

Historical  Tales  from  Shakespeare     .     .     .  1.50 

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I  Saw  Three  Ships  and  Other  Winter  Tales  1.25 

Dead  Man's  Rock 1.25 

The  Delectable  Duchy 1.25 

The  Blue  Pavilions 1.25 

Noughts  and  Crosses 1.25 

Wandering  Heath 1.25 

Adventures  in  Criticism 1.25 

The  Astonishino  Hi.storv  of  Troy  Town    .    .  1.25 

Ia.    a  Love  Story.    [Ivory  Series.]    16mo   .     .  .75 


SHINING  FERRY 


BY 

A,  T.  QUILLER-COUCH 


¥ 


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CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

NEW  YORK     :::::::     J905 


COPTRIQHT,   1904,   1905,    BT 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
Published.  March,  1905 


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TROW  DIRECTORY 

PRINTINQ  AND   BOOKBINDING  COMPANY 

NEW   YORK 


5/34- 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     ROSEWARNE   OP  HALL 1 

o          II.    Fathers  and  Children 12 

Tj-        III.    Rosbwarne's  Pilgrimage 30 

IV.    Rosewarne's  Penance 41 

V.    The  Close  of  a  Stewardship 59 

VI.    The  Rafters 80 

VII.    The  Heirs  of  Hall 97 


BOOK   II 

VIII.    Hester  Arrives 121 

IX.    Mr.  Samuel's  Policy 131 

X.    NUNCEY 110 

XI.    Hestkr  is  Accepted 1;">5 

XII.   The  Opening  Day 172 

XIII.  Tom  Trevarthen  Intervenes ISl 

XIV.  Mr.  Sam  ts  Magnanimous 19^ 

XV.    iMyka  i\   DisciUACE 200 

V 


3G1  ,'>5fJ 


CONTENTS 

BOOK   III 

CHAPTEn  ''*°^ 

XVI.    Aunt  Butsox  Closks  School 223 

XVII.    Petku  Benny's  Dismissal, 244 

XVI 1 1.    Right  of  Fkrky       25.5 

XIX.    The  Intercedeus 271 

XX.    An  Outburst 287 

XXI.    Mr.  Benny  Gets  Promotion 208 

XX 1 1.    Clem  is  Lost  to  Myra 318 

XXIII.  Hester  Writes  a  Love-letter   ....  3.14 

XXIV.  The  Rescue 3r)l 

XXV.   But  Tom  Can  Write 368 

XXVI.    Messengers 385 

XXVII.    Home 399 


VI 


BOOK   I 


SHINING    FERRY 

CHAPTER    I 

ROSEWARNE    OF    HALL 

John  Rosewarne  sat  in  his  counting-house  at 
Hall,  dictating  a  letter  to  his  confidential  clerk.  The 
letter  ran — 

"Dear  Sir, — In  answer  to  yours  of  the  6th  inst.,  I  beg 
to  inform  you  that  in  consequence  of  an  arrangement  with 
the  Swedish  firms,  by  which  barrel-staves  will  be  trimmed 
and  finished  to  three  standard  lengths  before  shipment,  we 
are  enabled  to  offer  an  additional  discount  of  five  per  cent, 
for  the  coming  season  on  orders  of  five  thousand  staves  and 
upwards.  Such  orders,  however,  should  reach  us  before  the 
fishery  begins,  as  we  liold  ourselves  free  to  raise  the  price 
at  any  time  after  1st  July.  A  consignment  is  expected 
from  the  Baltic  within  the  next  fortnight. " 

The  little  clerk  looked  up.  His  glance  inquired, 
"Is  that  all?" 

"Wait  a  minute."  His  master  seemed  to  be  re- 
flecting; then  leaning  back  in  his  chair  and  gripping 

1 


SHINING    FERRY 

its  arms  while  be  stared  out  of  the  bow-window  be- 
fore him,  lie  resinned  his  dictation — 

"  I  hope  to  be  in  Plymouth  on  Wednesday  next,  and 
tliat  you  will  liold  yourself  ready  for  a  call  between  two 
and  three  in  the  afternoon  at  your  office. " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,   sir,"   the   clerk   interposed, 
"but  Mr.  Samuel  closes  early  on  Wednesdays." 
"I  know  it.     Go  on,  please — 

"I  have  some  matters  to  discuss  alone  with  you,  and 
they  may  take  a  considerable  time.  Kindly  let  me  know 
by  return  if  the  date  suggested  is  inconvenient. " 

'That  will  do."  He  held  out  his  hand  for  the 
paper,  and  signed  it,  "Yours  truly,  John  Rose- 
Avarne,"  while  the  clerk  addressed  the  envelope. 
This  concluded  their  day's  work. 

Rosewarne  pulled  out  his  watch,  consulted  it,  and 
fell  again  to  staring  out  of  the  open  window.  A 
climbing  Banksia  rose  overgrew  the  sill  and  ran  up 
the  mullions,  its  clusters  of  nankeen  buds  stirred  by 
the  breeze  and  nodding  against  the  pale  sunset  sky. 
Beyond  the  garden  lay  a  small  orchard  fringed  with 
elms;  and  Ixdow  this  the  slope  fell  so  steeply  down 
to  the  harbour  that  the  elm-tops  concealed  its  ship- 
ping and  all  but  the  chimney-smoke  of  a  busy  little 

2 


ROSEWAENE    OF    HALL 

town  on  its  farther  shore.     High  over  this  smoke  the 
rooks  were  trailing  westward  and  homeward. 

Eosewarne  heard  the  clank  of  mallets  in  a  ship- 
building yard  below.  Then  five  o'clock  struck  from 
the  church  tower  across  the  water,  and  the  mallets 
ceased ;  but  far  down  by  the  harbour's  mouth  the 
crew  of  a  foreign-bound  ship  sang  at  the  windlass — 

Good-bye,  fare-ye-well — Good-bye,  fare-ye-well ! 

The  vessel  belonged  to  him.  He  controlled  most 
of  the  shipping  and  a  good  half  of  the  harbour's 
trade.  As  for  the  town  at  his  feet,  had  you  exam- 
ined his  ledgers  you  might  fancy  its  smoke  ascend- 
ing to  him  as  incense.  He  sat  with  his  strong  hand 
resting  on  the  arms  of  his  chair,  with  the  last  gold 
of  daylight  touching  his  white  hair  and  the  lines  of 
his  firm,  clean-shaven  face,  and  overlooked  his  local 
world  and  his  possessions.  If  they  brought  him  hap- 
piness, he  did  not  smile. 

He  aroused  himself  with  a  kind  of  shake  of  the 
shoulders,  and  stretched  out  a  hand  to  ring,  as  his 
custom  was  after  the  day's  work,  for  a  draught  of 
cider. 

"Eh  ?  Anything  more  ?"  he  asked  ;  for  the  little 
clerk,  having  gathered  up  his  papers,  had  advanced 
?lose  to  the  corner  of  the  writing-table,  and  waited 
there  with  an  air  of  apology. 

3 


SHINKs^G    FERRY 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  sir — the  2Stli  of  Maj.  I  had 
no  opportunity  this  morning,  but  if  I  may  take  the 
liberty" — 

"My  birthday,  Benny  ?  So  it  is ;  and,  begad,  I  be- 
lieve you're  the  only  soul  to  remember  it.  Stay  a 
moment" — 

He  rang  the  bell,  and  ordered  the  maidservant  to 
bring  in  a  full  jug  of  cider  and  two  glasses.  At 
the  signal,  a  siiiiill  Italian  greyhound,  who  had  been 
awaiting  it,  came  forward  fawning  from  her  lair 
in  the  corner,  and,  encouraged  by  a  snap  of  the 
fingers,  leapt  up  to  her  master's  knee. 

"May  God  send  you  many,  sir,  and  His  mercy  fol- 
low you  all  your  days!"  said  little  Mi'.  Benny,  with 
sudden  fervour.  Relapsing  at  once  into  his  ordinary 
manner,  he  produced  a  scrap  of  paper  and  tendered 
it  shyly.  "If  you  will  think  it  appropriate,"  he  ex- 
plained. 

"The  usual  compliment  ?  Hand  it  over,  man." 
Mr.  Rosewarne  took  the  paper  and  road — 

"Another  year,  another  milestone  past ; 
Dear  Sir,  I  hope  it  will  not  be  the  last : 
But  more  I  hope  that,  when  the  road  is  trod, 
Tou  find  the  Inn,  and  sit  you  down  with  God." 

"Thank  you,  Benny.     Your  own  composition  ?" 
"I  ventured  to  consult  my  brother,  sir.     The  idea 
— if  I  may  so  call  it — was  mine,  however." 

4 


ROSEWAKNE    OF    HALL 

Mr.  Rosewarne  leant  forward,  and  picking  up  a 
pen,  docketed  the  paper  with  the  day  of  the  month 
and  the  year.  He  then  pulled  out  a  drawer  on  the 
left-hand  side  of  his  knee-hole  table,  selected  a 
packet  labelled  "Complimentary,  P.  B." — his  clerk's 
initials — slipped  the  new  verses  under  the  elastic  band 
containing  similar  contributions  of  twenty  years,  re- 
placed the  packet,  and  shut  the  drawer.  The  little 
greyhound,  displaced  by  these  operations,  sprang 
again  to  his  knees,  and  he  fell  to  fondling  her  ears. 

"I  do  not  think  there  will  be  many  more  miles, 
Benny,"  said  he,  reaching  for  the  cider-jug.  "But 
let  us  drink  to  the  rest  of  the  way." 

"A  great  many,  I  hope,  sir,"  remonstrated  Mr. 
Benny.  "And,  sir — talking  about  milestones — you 
will  be  pleased  to  hear  that  Mrs.  Benny  was  con- 
fined this  morning,     A  fine  boy." 

"That  must  be  the  ninth  at  least." 

"The  eleventh,  sir — six  girls  and  five  boys:  be- 
sides three  buried." 

"Good  Lord !" 

"They  bring  their  love  with  them,  sir,  as  the  say- 
ing is." 

"And  as  the  saying  also  is,  Benny,  it  would  be 
more  to  the  purpose  if  they  brought  their  boots  and 
shoes.  Man,  you  must  have  a  nerve,  to  trust  Prov- 
idence as  you  do !" 

5 


SHINING   FERRY 

"It's  a  struggle,  sir,  as  you  can  guess ;  but  except 
to  your  kindness  in  ('iii])l(iyiiig  nio,  I  am  Lcliolden  to 
no  man.  I  say  it  humbly — the  Lord  has  been  kind 
to  me." 

Rosewarne  looked  up  for  a  moment  and  with  a 
curious  eagerness,  as  though  on  the  point  of  putting 
a  question.     He  suppressed  it,  however. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  he  said  slowly,  "in  this  ques- 
tion of  many  children  or  few  there's  a  natural  con- 
flict between  the  private  man  and  the  citizen;  yes, 
that's  how  I  put  it — a  natural  conflict.  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  l\raltlius  or  any  talk  about  over-population. 
A  nation  can't  hi'ced  too  many  sons.  Sons  are  her 
strength,  and  if  she  is  to  whip  her  rivals  it  will  be 
by  the  big  battalions.  Therefore,  as  I  argue  it  out, 
a  good  citizen  should  beget  many  children.  But  now 
turn  to  the  private  side  of  it.  A  man  wants  to  do 
the  best  for  his  own ;  and  whatever  his  income,  he 
can  do  better  for  two  children  than  for  half  a 
dozen.  To  be  sure,  he  mayn't  turn  'em  out  as  he 
intended" — 

Here  Rosewarne  paused  for  a  while  unwittingly, 
as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  packet  of  letters  in  Mr.  Benny's 
hand.  The  iijipci'uiost — the  business  letter  which  he 
had  just  signed — was  addressed  to  his  only  son. 

" — but  all  the  same,"  he  went  on,  "he  has  fitted 
them  out  and  given  them  a  better  chance  in  the  strug- 

6 


EOSEWARNE    OF   HALL 

gle  for  life.  The  devil  takes  the  hindmost  in  this 
world,  Benny.  I'd  like  to  lend  you  a  book  of  Dar- 
win's— the  biggest  book  of  this  century,  and  a  new 
gospel  for  the  next  to  think  out.  The  conclusion  is 
that  the  spoils  go  to  the  strongest.  You  may  help 
a  man  for  the  use  you  can  make  of  him,  but  in  the 
end  every  man's  your  natural  enemy." 

"A  terrible  gospel,  sir!  I  shall  have  to  get  along 
with  the  old  one,  which  says,  'Bear  ye  one  another's 
burdens.'  " 

"I  won't  lend  you  the  book.  'T wouldn't  be  fair  to 
a  man  of  your  age,  with  eleven  children.  And  after 
all,  as  I  said,  the  new  gospel  has  a  place  for  patriots. 
They  breed  the  raw  material  by  which  a  nation 
crushes  all  rivals;  then,  when  the  figliting  is  over, 
along  comes  your  man  with  money  and  a  trained 
wit,  and  collars  the  spoils." 

Mr.  Benny  stood  shuffling  his  weight  from  one  foot 
to  the  other.  "Even  if  yours  were  the  last  word  in 
this  world,  sir,  there's  another  to  reckon  with." 

"And  meanwhile  you're  on  pins  and  needles  to  be 
off  to  your  wife's  bedside.  Very  well,  man — drink 
up  your  cider ;  and  many  thanks  for  your  good 
wishes !" 

As  Mr.  Benny  hurried  toward  the  wicket-gate  and 
the  street  loading  down  to  the  ferry,  he  caught  sight, 
across  the  hedge,  of  two  children  seated  together  in 

7 


SHINING   FEREY 

a  corner  of  tlie  garden  on  the  step  of  a  summer  arbour, 
and  paused  to  wave  a  hand  to  them. 

They  were  a  girl  and  a  boy — the  girl  about  eight 
years  old  and  the  boy  a  year  or  so  younger — and  the 
pair  were  occupied  in  making  a  garland  such  as  chil- 
dren carry  about  on  May-morning — two  barrel-hoops 
fixed  crosswise  and  mounted  on  a  pole.  The  girl  had 
laid  the  pole  across  her  lap,  and  was  binding  the  hoops 
with  ferns  and  wihl  liyacintlis,  wallflowers,  and  gar- 
den tulips,  talking  the  while  with  the  boy,  who  bent 
his  head  close  by  hers  and  seemed  to  peer  into  the 
flowers.     But  in  fact  he  was  blind. 

"You're  late !"  the  girl  called  to  Mr.  Benny.  At 
the  sound  of  her  voice,  the  boy  too  waved  a  hand 
to  him. 

"It's  your  grandfather's  birthday,  and  I've  been 
drinking  his  healtli."  He  beckoned  them  over  to  the 
hedge.  "And  it's  another  person's  birthday,"  he  an- 
nounced mysteriously. 

"Bless  the  man !  you  doirt  tell  me  you've  gone  and 
got  another  !"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

Mr.  Benny  nodded,  no  whit  abashed. 

"Boy  or  girl  ?" 

"Boy." 

"What  is  he  like  ?"  asked  the  boy.  His  blindness 
came  from  some  defect  of  the  o])tic  nerve,  and  did 
not  affect  the  beauty  of  his  eyes,  which  were  curiously 

8 


EOSEWAENE    OE   HALL 

reflective  (as  though  they  looked  inwards),  and  in 
colour  a  deep  violet-grey. 

"I  hadn't  much  time  to  take  stock  of  him  this 
morning,"  Mr.  Benny  confessed ;  "but  the  doctor  said 
he  was  a  fine  one."  He  nodded  at  the  garland. 
"Birthday  present  for  your  grandfather  ?"  he  asked. 

"Grandfather  doesn't  bother  himself  about  us," 
the  girl  answered.  "Besides,  wdiat  would  he  do 
with  it  ?" 

"I  know  —  I  know.  It's  better  be  unmannerly 
than  troublesome,  as  they  say;  and  you'd  like  to 
please  him,  but  feel  too  shy  to  offer  it.  That's  like 
me.  I  had  it  on  my  tongue  just  now  to  ask  him  to 
stand  godfather — the  child's  birthday  being  the  same 
as  his  own.  'Twas  the  honour  of  it  I  wanted;  but 
like  as  not  (thought  I)  he'll  set  it  down  that  I'm 
fishing  for  something  else,  and  when  it  didn't  strike 
him  to  offer  I  felt  I  couldn't  mention  it." 

"I'll  ask  him,  if  you  like." 

"Not  on  any  account!  No,  please,  you  mustn't! 
Promise  me." 

"Very  well." 

"I  oughtn't  to  have  mentioned  it,  but" —  Mr. 
Benny  rubbed  the  back  of  his  head.  "You  don't 
know  liow  it  is — no,  of  course  you  wouldn't;  some- 
how, when  a  child's  born,  I  want  to  be  talking  all 
day." 

9 


SHINING    FERRY 

"Like  a  hen.  Well,  nin  along  home,  and  some 
day  you  shall  ask  iis  to  tea  with  it." 

But  Mr.  Benny  had  reached  the  wicket.  It 
slammed  hehind  him,  and  he  ran  down  the  street  to 
the  ferry  at  a  round  trot.  lie  might  have  spared  his 
haste,  for  he  had  to  cool  his  heels  for  a  good  ten  min- 
utes on  the  slipway,  and  fill  uj)  the  time  in  telling 
his  news  to  half  a  dozen  workmen  gathered  there  and 
awaiting  the  hoat.  Old  Nicky  Vro,  the  ferryman, 
had  pulled  the  same  Icisurahle  stroke  for  forty  years 
now,  and  was  not  to  he  hurried. 

The  workmen  were  carpenters,  all  engaged  upon 
the  new  schoolhouse  above  the  hill,  and  returning 
from  their  day's  job.  They  discussed  the  building 
as  Nicky  Vro  tided  them  over.  Its  fittings,  they 
agreed,  were  something  out  of  the  common. 

"  'Tis  the  old  man's  whim,"  said  one.  "He's  all 
for  education  now,  and  the  latest  improvements. 
'Capability' — that's  his  word." 

"A  poor  lookout  it'll  be  for  Aunt  Butson  and  her 
Infant  School." 

"He'll  offer  her  the  new  place,  maybe,"  it  was 
suggested. 

But  all  laughed  at  this.  "WTiat?  with  his  no- 
tions? He's  a  darned  sight  more  likely  to  offer  her 
Nicky's  job,  here !" 

Nicky  smiled  complacently,  in  his  half-witted  way. 

10 


ROSEWARNE    OF    HALL 

"That's  a  joke,  too,"  said  he.  He  knew  himself  to 
be  necessary  to  the  ferry. 

He  pulled  on — still  with  the  same  digging  stroke 
which  he  could  not  have  altered  for  a  fortune — while 
his  passengers  discussed  Rosewarne  and  Rosewarne's 
ways. 

"  'Tis  a  hungry  gleaning  where  he've  a-reaped," 
said  the  man  who  had  spoken  of  capability;  "but  I 
don't  blame  the  old  Greek — not  I.  'Do  or  be  done, 
miss  doing  and  be  done  for' — that's  the  world's  motto 
nowadays ;  and  if  I  hadn't  learnt  it  for  myself,  I've 
a  son  in  America  to  write  it  home.  Here  we  be  all 
in  a  heap,  and  the  lucky  one  levers  himself  a-top." 

Mr.  Benny  said  good-night  to  them  on  the  landing- 
slip,  and  broke  into  a  trot  for  home. 

"  'Tisn't  true,"  he  kept  repeating  to  himself, 
almost  fiercely  for  so  mild  a  little  man.  "  'Tisn't 
true,  whatever  it  sounds.  There's  another  world; 
and  in  this  one — don't  I  know  it? — there's  love, 
love,  love!" 


11 


CHAPTER    II 

FATHERS    AND    CIIILDEEN 

John  Rosewakne  fetched  his  hat  and  staff  from 
the  hall,  and  started  on  liis  customary  stroll  around 
the  farm-buildings,  with  the  small  greyhound  trot- 
ting daintily  at  his  heels. 

The  lands  of  Hall  march  with  those  of  far  larger 
estate,  to  which  they  once  l)elonged,  and  of  which 
Hall  itself  had  once  been  the  chief  seat.  The  house — 
a  grey,  stone  building  with  two  wings  and  a  heavy 
porch  midway  between  them — dated  from  1592,  and 
had  received  its  shape  of  a  capital  E  in  compliment 
to  Queen  Elizabeth.  Iving  Charles  himself  had 
lodged  in  it  for  a  day  during  the  Civil  War,  and 
while  inspecting  the  guns  (ni  a  terraced  walk  above 
the  harboui',  had  naiTowly  escaped  a  shot  fired  across 
from  the  town  where  Essex's  troops  lay  in  force. 
The  shot  killed  a  poor  fislicrmaii  beside  him,  an<l  J I  is 
Majesty  that  afternoon  gave  thanks  for  his  own 
preservation  in  the  private  chapel  of  Hall.  In  those 
days,  the  pordi  and  all  the  main  windows  looked 
seaward    upon    this   chajK'l    across   half   an    acre   of 

12 


FATHERS    AND    CHILDREN 

greensward ;  but  the  Rosewarnes  had  since  converted 
the  lawn  into  a  farmyard  and  the  shrine  into  a  cow- 
byre.  Above  it  ran  a  line  of  tall  elms  screening  a 
lane  used  by  the  farm-carts,  and  above  this  again  a 
great  field  of  arable  rounded  itself  against  the  sky. 

From  the  top  of  Parc-an-hal — so  the  field  was 
named — the  eye  travelled  over  a  goodly  prospect :  sea 
and  harbour ;  wide  stretches  of  cultivated  land,  inter- 
sected by  sunken  woodlands  which  marked  the  wind- 
ing creeks  of  the  river ;  other  woodlands  yet  more 
distant,  embowering  the  great  mansion  of  Damelioc ; 
the  purple  rise  of  a  down  capped  by  a  monument 
commemorating  ancient  battles.  The  scene  held  old 
and  deeply  written  meanings  for  Rosewarne,  as  he 
gazed  over  it  in  the  descending  twiliglit — meanings 
he  had  spent  his  life  to  acquire,  and  other  meanings 
born  with  him  in  his  blood. 

Once  upon  a  time  there  lived  a  wicked  noDieman. 
He  owned  Damelioc,  and  had  also  for  his  pleasure  the 
house  and  estate  of  Hall,  whence  his  family  had 
moved  to  their  lordlier  mansion  two  generations  be- 
fore his  birth.  Being  exiled  to  the  country  from  the 
Court  of  Queen  Anne,  he  cast  about  for  some  civil- 
ised way  of  passing  the  time,  and  one  day,  as  he 
lounged  at  church  in  his  great  pew,  liis  eye  fell  on 
Rachel  Rosewarne,  a  gipsy-looking  girl,  sitting  under 

13 


SIIINIKG    FERRY 

the  gallery.  This  Rachel's  fntlicr  was  a  fisherman, 
tall  of  stature,  who  planted  himself  one  night  in  the 
road  as  my  lord  galloped  homeward  to  Damelioc. 
The  horse  shied,  and  the  rider  was  thrown.  Rose- 
warne  picked  him  np,  dusted  his  lace  coat  carefully, 
and  led  liim  aside  into  this  very  field  of  Parc-an-hal. 
No  one  knows  what  talk  they  held  there,  but  on  his 
lordship's  dying,  in  1712,  of  wounds  received  in  a 
duel  in  Hyde  Park,  Rachel  RoscAvarne  produced  a 
deed,  which  the  widow's  lawyers  did  not  contest,  and 
entered  Hall  as  its  mistress,  with  her  son  Charles — 
then  five  years  old. 

Rachel  Rosewarne  died  in  1760  at  the  age  of 
seventy-six,  leaving  a  grim  reputation,  which  sur- 
vived for  another  hundred  years  in  the  talk  of  the 
countryside.  While  she  lived,  her  grip  on  the  estate 
never  relaxed.  Her  son  grew  up  a  mere  hind  upon 
the  home-farm.  When  he  reached  twenty-five,  she 
saddled  her  grey  horse,  rode  over  to  Looe,  and  re- 
turned with  a  maid  for  him — one  of  the  Mayows,  a 
pale,  submissive  creature — whom  he  duly  married. 
She  made  the  young  couple  no  allowance,  but  kept 
them  at  Hall  as  her  pensioners.  In  the  year  1747, 
Charles  (by  this  time  a  man  of  forty)  had  the 
temerity  to  get  religion  from  the  Rev.  John  Wesley. 
The  great  preacher  had  assembled  a  crowd  on  the 
green  by  the  cross-roads  beyond  Parc-an-hal.    Charles 

14 


FATHERS    AND    CHILDREN 

Rosewarne,  who  was  stalling  the  cattle  after  inilking- 
time,  heard  the  outcries,  and  strolled  up  the  road  to 
look.  Two  hours  later  he  returned,  fell  on  his  knees 
in  the  outer  kitchen,  and  began  to  wrestle  for  his 
soul,  the  farm-maids  standing  around  and  crying 
with  fright.  But  half  an  hour  later  his  mother  re- 
turned from  Liskeard  market,  strode  into  the  kitchen 
in  her  riding-skirt,  and  took  him  by  the  collar.  "You 
base-born  mongrel !"  sh^  called  out.  "You  barn-straw 
whelp!  what  has  the  Lord  to  do  with  one  of  your 
breed  ?"  She  dragged  him  to  his  feet  and  laid  her 
horse-whip  over  head  and  shoulders.  Madam  had 
more  than  once  used  that  whip  upon  an  idling 
labourer  in  the  fields. 

She  died,  leaving  the  estate  in  good  order  and  clear 
of  debt.  Charles  Rosewarne  enjoyed  his  inheritance 
just  eleven  years,  and,  dying  in  1771  of  angina  pec- 
toris, left  two  married  daughters  and  a  son,  Nicholas, 
on  whom  the  estate  was  entailed,  subject  to  a  small 
annual  charge  for  maintaining  his  mother. 

In  this  Nicholas  all  the  family  passions  broke  out 
afresh.  He  had  been  the  one  living  creature  for 
whom  Madam  Rachel's  flinty  breast  had  nursed  a 
spark  of  love,  and  at  fourteen  he  had  rewarded  her 
by  trying  to  set  fire  to  her  skirts  as  she  dosed  in  her 
chair.  At  nineteen,  in  a  fit  of  drunkenness,  he  struck 
his  father.     He  married  a  tap-room  girl  from  St. 

15 


SHINING    FERRY 

Austoll,  aiul  beat  her.  She  gave  him  two  sons:  the 
ekk'r  (named  Nicholas,  after  his  father),  a  gentle 
boy,  very  bony  in  linil),  after  the  fashion  of  the  Rose- 
warnes;  the  younger,  Michael,  an  epileptic.  His 
mother  had  been  turned  out  of  doors  one  night  in  a 
north-westerly  gale,  and  had  lain  till  morning  in  a 
cold  pew  of  the  disused  chapel,  whereby  the  child 
came  to  birth  prematurely.  This  happened  in  1771, 
the  year  that  Nicholas  took  possession  of  the  estate. 
He  treated  his  old  mother  even  worse,  being  fierce 
with  her  because  of  the  small  annual  charge.  She 
grow  blind  and  de^mented  toward  the  end,  and  was 
given  a  rowni  in  the  west  wing,  over  the  counting- 
house.  Nicholas  removed  the  door-handle  on  the  in- 
side, and  the  wainscot  there  still  showed  a  dull  smear, 
rubbed  by  the  poor  creature's  shoulder  as  she  trotted 
round  and  round ;  also  marks  upon  the  door,  where 
her  fingers  had  grabhlcd  for  the  missing  handle. 
There  were  dreadful  legends  of  this  Nicholas — 
one  in  particular  of  a  dark  foreigner  who  had  been 
landed,  heavily  ironed,  from  a  passing  ship,  and  had 
found  li(i<iiit;ility  at  Hall.  The  ship  (so  the  story 
went)  was  a  pirate,  and  the  man  so  monstrously 
wicked  that  even  lier  crew  could  not  endure  him. 
During  his  sojourn  the  cards  and  drink  were  going 
at  Ilall  night  and  day,  and  every  night  found  Nicho- 
las mad-drunk.     He  began  to  mortgage,  and  whis- 

16 


FATHERS    AND    CHILDREN 

pers  went  abroad  of  worse  ways  of  meeting  liis  losses ; 
of  ships  lured  upon  the  rocks,  and  half-drowned  sail- 
ors knocked  upon  the  head,  or  chopped  at  with  axes. 

All  this  came  to  an  end  in  the  great  thunderstorm 
of  1778,  when  the  harvesters,  running  for  shelter  to 
the  kitchen,  found  Nicholas  lying  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor  with  his  mouth  twisted  and  eyeballs  star- 
ing. They  were  lifting  the  body,  Avhen  a  cry  from 
the  women  fetched  them  to  the  windows,  in  time  to 
catch  a  glimpse  of  the  foreigner  sneaking  away  under 
cover  of  the  low  west  wall.  As  he  broke  into  a  run 
the  lightning  flashed  upon  the  corners  of  a  brass- 
bound  box  he  carried  under  his  arm.  One  or  two 
gave  chase,  but  the  rain  met  them  on  the  outer 
threshold  in  a  deluge,  and  in  the  blind  confusion  of 
it  he  made  off,  nor  was  seen  again. 

Thus  died  Nicholas  Rosewarne,  and  was  followed 
to  the  grave  by  one  mourner  only — his  epileptic  child, 
Michael.  The  heir,  Nicholas  II.,  had  taken  the 
king's  shilling  to  be  quit  of  his  home,  and  was  out 
in  Philadelphia,  fighting  under  Sir  Henry  Clinton. 
He  returned  in  1780  with  a  shattered  knee-pan  and 
a  young  wife  he  had  married  abroad.  She  died  within 
a  year  of  her  arrival  at  Hall  in  giving  birth  to  a  son, 
who  was  christened  Martin. 

The  loss  of  her  and  the  ruinous  state  of  the  family 
finances  completely  broke  the  spirit  of  this  younger 

17 


SHINING    FEERY 

Nicholas.  He  dismissed  tlie  servants  and  worked  in 
the  fields  and  gardens  about  his  fine  house  as  a  com- 
mon market  gardener.  On  fair-days  at  Liskeard  or 
St.  Austell  the  ex-soldier,  prematurely  aged,  might 
have  been  seen  in  the  market-place,  standing  as  nearly 
at  "Attention"  as  his  knee-pan  allowed  beside  a 
specimen  apple  tree,  which  he  held  to  liis  shoulder 
like  a  musket.  Thus  he  kept  sentry-go  against  hard 
Fortune — a  tall  man  with  a  patient  face.  Thanks 
to  a  natural  gift  for  gardening,  and  the  rare  fer- 
tility of  the  slopes  below  Hall,  he  managed  to  pay 
interest  on  the  mortgages  and  support  the  family  at 
home — his  sad-browed  mother,  his  brother  Michael, 
and  his  son  JMartin.  And  he  lived  to  taste  his  re- 
ward, for  his  son  Martin  had  a  financial  genius. 

This  genius  awoke  in  Martin  Rosewarne  one  Sun- 
day, in  his  fifteenth  year  as  he  sat  beside  his  father 
in  the  family  pew  and  listened  to  a  dull  sermon  on 
the  Parable  of  the  Talents.  He  was  a  just  child,  and 
he  could  not  understand  the  crime  of  that  servant 
who  had  hidden  his  talent  in  a  napkin.  In  fault  he 
must  be,  for  the  Bible  said  so. 

The  boy  spent  that  afternoon  in  an  apple-loft  of 
the  deserted  chapel,  and  by  evening  he  had  hit  on  a 
discovery  which,  new  in  those  days,  now  informs  the 
whole  of  commerce — that  it  is  more  profitable  to  trade 
on  borrowed  capital  than  upon  one's  own. 

18 


FATHERS    AKD    CHILDREN 

He  put  it  thus :  "Let  me,  not  knowing  the  mean- 
ing of  a  ^talent/  put  it  at  £100.  l^ow,  if  the  good 
and  faithful  servant  adventured  five  talents,  or  £500, 
at  ten  per  cent.,  he  made  £50  a  year.  But  if  the  ser- 
vant with  one  talent  can  borrow  four  others,  he  has 
the  same  capital  of  £500.  Suppose  him  to  borrow  at 
five  per  cent,  and  make  ten  like  the  other,  he  pays 
£20  of  his  profit  in  interest,  and  has  thirty  per  cent, 
left  on  the  talent  he  started  with." 

"Father,"  said  the  boy  that  night  at  supper,  "what 
ought  the  wicked  servant  to  have  done  with  his 
talent  ?" 

"Parson  told  you  that  plain  enough,  if  you'd  a-been 
listening." 

"But  what  do  you  think  ?" 

"I  don't  need  to  think  when  the  Bible  tells  me. 
'Thou  wicked  and  slothful  servant,'  it  says,  'thou 
oughtest  to  have  put  my  money  to  the  exchangers, 
and  then  I  should  have  received  mine  own  with 
usury,'  " 

"That  means  he  ought  to  have  lent  it  ?" 

"Yes,  sure." 

"Well,  now,"  said  the  boy,  nodding,  "/  think  he 
ought  to  have  borrowed." 

Nicholas  stared  at  his  son  gloomily.  "Setting 
yourself  up  agen'  the  Scriptures,  hey  ?  It's  time  you 
were  a-bed." 

19 


SHINING    FEERY 

''But,  father"— 

Tlio  cx-soklior  seldom  gave  way  to  passion,  but 
now  he  hanged  his  fist  down  on  the  tal)le.  "Go  to 
bed  !"  he  shouted.  "Talk  to  7ne  of  borrowing!  Don't 
mv  shoulders  ache  wu'  the  curse  of  it  ?" 

]\Iartin  took  his  discovery  oif  and.  nursed  it.  By 
and  by  another  grew  out  of  it :  If  the  wicked  servant 
be  making  thirty  per  cent,  against  the  other's  ten, 
he  can  afford  for  a  time  to  abate  some  of  his  profit, 
lower  his  prices,  and,  by  underselling,  drive  the  other 
out  of  the  market. 

He  grew  up  a  tall  and  taciturn  lad,  pondering  his 
thoughts  while  he  dug  and  planted  with  his  father  in 
the  kitchen-gardens.  For  this  from  the  age  of  eigh- 
teen he  received  a  small  wage,  which  he  carefully  put 
aside.  Then  in  1800  his  uncle  Michael  died,  and  left 
him  a  legacy  of  £50.  He  invested  it  in  the  privateer- 
ing trade,  in  which  the  harbour  did  a  brisk  business 
just  then.  Three  years  later  his  father  suffered  a 
stroke  of  paralysis — a  slight  one,  but  it  confined  him 
to  his  room  for  some  weeks.  Meanwhile,  Martin  took 
charge. 

"I've  been  looking  into  your  accounts,"  he  an- 
nounced one  day,  as  soon  as  his  father  could  bear 
talking  to. 

"Then  you've  been  taking  an  infernal  liberty." 

"I  see  you've  cleared  off  two  of  the  mortgages — 

20 


FATHEES    AND    CHILDKEN 

on  the  home  estate  here  and  the  ISTanscawne  property. 
You're  making,  one  way  and  another,  close  on  £500 
a  year,  half  of  which  goes  to  paying  up  interest  and 
reducing  the  principal  by  degrees." 

"That's  about  it." 

"And  to  my  knowledge  three  of  your  tenants  are 
making  from  £200  to  £400  by  growing  corn,  which 
you  might  grow  yourself.  Was  ever  such  folly? 
Look  at  the  price  corn  is  making." 

"Look  at  the  labour.     How  can  I  afford  it  ?" 

"By  borrowing  again  on  the  uncumbered  property." 

"Your  old  lidden  again  ?  I  take  my  oath  I'll  never 
raise  a  penny  on  Hall  so  long  as  I  live !  With  blood 
and  sweat  I've  paid  off  that  mortgage,  and  I'll  set  my 
curse  on  you  if  you  renew  it  when  I'm  gone." 

"We'll  try  the  other,  then.  Your  father  raised 
£1500  on  the  Nanscawne  lands,  and  spent  it  on  cards 
and  ropery.  We'll  raise  the  same  money,  and  double 
it  in  three  years.  If  we  don't — well,  I've  made  £500 
of  my  own,  and  I'll  engage  to  hand  you  over  every 
farthing  of  it." 

"Well,"  his  father  gave  in,  "gain  or  loss,  it  will 
fall  on  you,  and  pretty  soon.  I  wasn't  built  for  a 
long  span ;  my  father's  sins  have  made  life  bitter  to 
me,  and  I  thank  God  the  end's  near.  But  if  you  have 
£500  to  spare,  I  can't  see  why  you  drive  me  afield  to 
borrow." 

21 


SHINING   FERRY 

"To  teach  you  a  lesson,  perhaps.  As  soon  as  you're 
fit  for  it;  we'll  drive  over  to  Damelioc,  and  have  a  try 
with  the  new  owner.  He'll  jump  at  us.  The  two 
properties  went  together  once,  and  when  he  hears  our 
tale,  he'll  say  to  himself,  ^Oho !  here's  a  chance  to 
get  'em  together  again.'  He'll  think,  of  course,  that 
you  are  in  difficulties.  But  mind  you  stand  out,  and 
don't  you  pay  more  than  five  i)er  cent." 

Here  it  must  he  explained  that  the  great  Damelioc 
estates,  after  passing  through  several  hands,  had 
come  in  1801  to  an  Irishman,  a  Mr.  Eustatius 
Burke,  who  had  made  no  small  part  of  his  fortune 
by  voting  for  the  Union.  ]\Ir.  Burke,  as  Martin 
rightly  guessed,  would  have  given  something  more 
than  the  value  of  Hall  to  add  it  to  Damelioc ;  and  so, 
when  Nicholas  Rosewarne  drove  over  and  petitioned 
for  a  loan  of  £1.500,  he  lent  willi  alacrity.  He  knew 
enough  of  the  situation  to  he  thoroughly  deceived. 
After  Nanscawne,  ho  would  reach  his  hand  out  upon 
Hall  itself.  He  lent  the  sum  at  five  per  cent.,  and 
dreamed  of  an  early  foreclosure. 

Armed  with  ready  money,  the  two  Rosewarnes 
called  in  the  leases  of  their  fields,  hired  labourers, 
sowed  corn,  harvested,  and  sold  at  war  jjrices.  They 
bought  land — still  uj)on  mortgage — on  the  other  side 
of  the  harbour,  and  at  the  close  of  the  great  year  1812 
(when  the  price  of  wheat  soared  far  above  £G  a  quar- 

99 


FATHERS    AND    CHILDREN 

ter)  Nicholas  Rosewarne  died  a  moderately  rich 
man.  By  this  time  Martin  had  started  a  victualling 
yard  in  the  town,  a  shiphnilding  yard,  and  an  em- 
porium near  the  Barbican,  Plymouth,  where  he  pur- 
veyed ships'  stores  and  slop-clothing  for  merchant 
seamen.  He  made  money,  too,  as  agent  for  most  of 
the  smuggling  companies  along  the  coast,  although  he 
embarked  little  of  his  own  wealth  in  the  business,  and 
never  assisted  in  an  actual  run  of  the  goods.  He  had 
ceased  to  borrow  actively  now^,  for  other  people's 
money  came  to  him  unsought,  to  be  used. 

The  Rosewarnes,  as  large  employers  of  labour, 
paid  away  considerable  sums  weekly  in  wages.  But 
those  were  times  of  paper  money.  All  coin  was 
scarce,  and  in  some  villages  a  piece  of  gold  would  not 
be  seen  in  a  twelvemonth.  Martin  and  his  father 
paid  for  labour  in  part  by  orders  on  their  own  shops ; 
for  the  rest,  and  at  first  for  convenience  rather  than 
profit,  they  set  up  a  bank  and  issued  their  own  notes 
— those  for  one  or  two  pounds  payable  at  their  own 
house,  and  those  for  larger  sums  by  their  London 
agent.  At  first  these  notes  would  be  cashed  at  once. 
By  and  by  they  began  to  pass  as  ordinary  tender. 
Before  long,  people  who  possessed  a  heap  of  this  pa- 
per learnt  that  the  Rosewarnes  would  give  them  inter- 
est for  it  as  well  as  for  money,  and  bethought  them 
that,  if  hoarded;  it  ran  the  risk  of  robbery,  besides 

23 


SIIINIXG    FERRY 

being  unproductive.  Timidly  and  at  long  intervals 
men  came  to  Martin  and  asked  him  to  take  charge 
of  their  wealth.  He  agreed,  of  course.  "Use  the 
money  of  others"  was  still  his  motto.  So  Rose- 
wanic's  became  a  deposit  bank. 

To  the  end  Nicholas  imperfectly  understood  these 
operations.  By  a  clause  in  his  will  he  begged  his  son 
as  a  favour  to  pay  off  every  penny  of  mortgage 
money.  On  tlio  morning  after  the  funeral,  Martin 
stuffed  three  stout  rolls  of  bank-notes  into  his  pocket, 
and  rode  over  to  Damelioc.  IMr.  Burke  had  for  six 
years  been  Lord  Killiow,  in  the  peerage  of  Ireland, 
and  for  two  years  a  Privy  Councillor.  lie  received 
Martin  affably.  He  recognised  that  this  yeoman- 
looking  fellow  had  been  too  clever  for  him,  and  bore 
no  malice. 

"I've  a  proposition  to  make  to  you,  Rosewarne," 
said  he,  as  he  signed  the  receipts.  "You  are  a  vastly 
clever  man,  and  I  judge  you  to  be  trustworthy.  For 
my  part,  I  hate  lawyers" — 

"Amen !"  put  in  Martin. 

"And  I  thought  of  asking  you  to  act  as  my  steward 
at  a  salary.  It  won't  take  up  a  great  deal  of  your 
time,"  urged  his  lordship;  for  Martin  had  walked  to 
the  long  w  iiidow,  and  stood  there,  gazing  out  over  the 
park,  with  his  hands  clasped  beneath  his  coat-tails. 

"As  for  that,  I've  time  to  spare,"  answered  Mar- 

24 


FATHEKS    AND    CHILDKEN 

tin.  "Banking's  the  easiest  business  in  the  world. 
When  it's  hard,  it's  wrong.  But  would  you  give  me 
a  free  hand  ?" 

"I  cannot  bind  my  brother  Patrick,  if  that's  what 
you  mean.  When  I'm  in  the  grave  he  must  act 
according  to  his  folly.  If  he  chooses  to  dismiss 
you" — 

"I'll  chance  that.  But  you  are  asking  a  good  deal 
of  me.  Your  brother  is  an  incurable  gambler.  He 
owes  something  like  £20,000  at  this  moment — money 
borrowed  mainly  on  post  obits.'^ 

"You  are  well  posted." 

"I  have  reason  to  be.  Man — my  lord,  I  mean — 
he  will  want  money,  and  what's  to  prevent  me  adding 
Damelioc  to  Hall,  as  you  would  have  added  Hall  to 
Damelioc  ?" 

"There's  the  boy,  Rosewarne.  I  can  tie  up  the 
estate  on  the  boy." 

Martin  Rosewarne  smiled.  "Your  brother's  is  a 
good  boy,"  he  said.  "You  can  tie  up  the  money  with 
him.  Or  you  may  make  me  steward,  and  I'll  give 
you  my  word  he  shall  not  be  ousted." 

Eustatius,  first  Lord  Ivilliow,  died  in  1822,  and 
his  brother,  Patrick  Henry,  succeeded  to  the  title  and 
estates.  Martin  Tfosewarne  retained  his  steward- 
ship. To  be  sure  lie  made  an  obliging  steward.  He 
saw  that  the  man  nmst  go  his  own  gait,  and  also  that 

25 


SHINING   FERRY 

he  was  drinking  himself  to  death.     So  where  a  timid 
treasurer  would  have  closed  the  purse-strings,  he  un- 
loosed them.     He  cut  down  timber,  he  raised  mort- 
aages  as  soon  as  asked — all  to  hasten  the  end.     Thus 
encouraged,  the  second  Lord  Killiow  ran  his  consti- 
tution to  a  standstill,  and  succumbed  in  1832.     The 
heir  was  at  that  time  an  undergraduate  at  Christ- 
church,  Oxford,  and  already  the  author  of  a  treatise 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages  on  The  Limits  of 
the  Human  Intelligence.     On  leaving  the  University 
he  put  ou  a  white  hat  and  buff  waistcoat,  and  made 
violent   speeches   against   the   Reform    liill.      Later, 
he  sobered  down  into  a  "philosophic"  Radical;  be- 
came Commissioner  of  Works;  married   an   actress 
in  London,  Polly  Wilkins  by  name ;  and  died  a  year 
later,  in  1850,  at  Rome,  of  malarial  fever,  leaving 
no    heir.      Lady    Killiow — whom    we    shall    meet — 
buried  him  decently,  and  returned  to  spend  the  rest 
of  her  days   in  seclusion  at   Damelioc,   committing 
all  business  to  her  steward,  John  Rosewarne. 

For  Martin  Rosewarne  had  taken  to  wife  in  1814 
a  yeoman's  daughter  from  the  Meneage  district,  west 
of  Falmoutli,  and  the  issue  of  that  marriage  was  a 
daughter,  who  grew  up  to  marry  a  ship's  captain, 
against  her  parents'  wishes,  and  a  son,  John,  whom 
his  father  had  set  himself  to  train  in  his  own  ideas 
of  business. 

26 


FATHERS    AXD    CHILDREN 

In  intellect  the  boy  inherited  his  father's  strength, 
if  something  less  than  his  originality.  But  in  tem- 
per, as  well  as  in  size  of  frame  and  limb,  he  threatened 
at  first  to  be  a  throw-back  to  Nicholas,  his  great- 
grandfather of  evil  memory.  All  that  his  father  could 
teach  he  learnt  aptly.  But  his  passions  were  his  owm, 
and  from  fifteen  to  eighteen  a  devil  seemed  to  possess 
the  lad.  He  had  no  sooner  mastered  the  banking  busi- 
ness than  he  flatly  refused  to  cross  the  bank's  thresh- 
old. For  two  3^ears  he  dissipated  all  his  early  prom- 
ise in  hunting,  horse-breaking,  wrestling  at  fairs, 
prize-fighting,  drinking,  gaming,  sparking.  Then, 
on  a  day  after  a  furious  quarrel  at  home,  he  disap- 
peared, and  for  another  three  years  his  parents  had 
never  a  word  of  him. 

It  was  rumoured  afterwards  that  he  had  enlisted, 
following  his  grandfather's  example,  and  had  spent 
at  least  some  part  of  these  wander-years  as  private  in 
a  West  India  regiment.  At  any  rate,  one  fine  morn- 
ing in  1838  he  returned,  bringing  with  him  a  wife 
and  an  infant  son,  and  it  appeared  that  somehow  he 
had  exorcised,  or  at  least  chained,  his  devil.  He  set- 
tled down  quietly  at  Hall,  where  meanwhile  business 
had  been  prospering,  and  where  now  it  put  forth  new 
vigour. 

It  was  John  who  foresaw  the  decline  in  agricul- 
ture, and  turned  his  father's  attention  from  wheat- 

27 


SIIININ^G    FERRY 

gi'owing  to  mining.  lie  opened  up  the  granite  and 
china-clay  on  the  moorland  beyond  the  town,  and  a 
railway  line  to  bring  these  and  other  minerals  down 
to  the  coast.  He  built  ships,  and  in  times  of  depres- 
sion he  bouglit  them  uj),  and  made  them  pay  good 
interest  on  their  low  prices.  He  bought  up  the  sean- 
boats  for  miles  along  the  coast,  and  took  the  pilchard- 
fishery  into  his  hands.  Regularly  in  the  early  spring 
a  fleet  sailed  for  the  Mediterranean  with  fish  for  the 
Spaniards  and  Italians  to  cat  during  Lent.  Larger 
ships — tall  three-masters — took  emigrants  to  Amer- 
ica, and  returned  with  timber  for  his  building-yards, 
mines,  and  clay-works.  The  banking  business  had 
been  sold  by  his  father  not  long  before  the  great  panic 
of  1825. 

In  this  same  year  1825  John  lost  his  first  wife. 
After  a  short  interval  he  sought  and  found  a  second 
— this  time  a  lady  of  good  family  on  the  shores  of 
the  Tamar.  She  bore  him  a  daughter,  Anne,  who 
grew  up  to  make  an  unhappy  matcli,  nud  died  un- 
timely. The  oliildrcn  at  play  in  the  garden  were 
hers.     Her  mother  survived  her  five  years. 

As  men  count  prosperity,  John  Rosewarne  had 
lived  prosperously.  Tie  had  a  philosophy,  too,  to 
steel  him  against  the  blows  of  fate,  and  behind  his 
pliilosoj)hy  a  great  natural  courage.    Nevertheless,  as 

28 


FATHERS    AND    CHILDREN 

he  gazed  across  his  acres  for  the  last  time — knowing 
well  that  it  might  be  the  last — and  across  them  to 
Damelioc,  the  wider  acres  of  his  stewardship,  his  eyes 
for  one  weak  moment  grew  dim.  He  had  reached  the 
stile  at  the  summit  of  Parc-an-hal,  and  was  leaning 
there,  when  he  felt  a  cool,  damp  touch  upon  his  fin- 
gers. The  little  greyhound,  puzzled  at  his  standing 
there  so  long  motionless,  had  reached  up  on  her  hind 
legs,  and  was  licking  his  hand  affectionately. 

He  frowned,  pushed  her  off,  and  started  to  descend 
the  hill.  Night  was  falling  fast,  with  a  heavy  dew. 
The  children  had  left  their  play  and  crept  to  bed. 
They  never  sought  him  to  say  good-night. 

He  returned  slowly,  leaning  on  his  staff,  went  to 
his  room,  lit  the  lamp,  and  spent  a  couple  of  hours 
with  his  papers.  This  had  become  his  nightly  habit 
of  late. 

On  Wednesday  he  arose  early,  packed  a  hand-bag, 
crossed  the  ferry,  and  took  train  for  Plymouth. 


29 


CHAPTEE   III 


eosewarne's  pilgeimage 


Teom  the  railway  station  at  Plj'moiith  John  Eose- 
warne  walked  straight  to  Lockyer  Street,  to  a  house 
with  a  brass  plate  on  the  door,  and  on  the  brass  plate 
the  name  of  a  physician  famous  throughout  the  West 
of  England. 

The  doctor  had  just  come  to  the  end  of  his  morn- 
ing consultations,  and  received  Eosewarne  at  once. 
The  pair  talked  for  five  minutes  on  indifferent  mat- 
ters, then  of  Paris,  and  the  terrible  doings  of  the  Com- 
mune— for  this  was  the  month  of  May  1871.  At 
length  Eosewarne  stood  up. 

"  Best  get  it  over,"  said  he. 

The  doctor  felt  his  pulse,  took  the  stethoscope  and 
listened,  tapped  and  sounded  him,  back  and  chest, 
then  listened  again. 

"  Worse  ?  "  asked  Eosewarne. 

"  It  is  worse,"  answered  the  doctor  gravely. 

"  I  knew  it.  One  or  two  in  my  family  have  died 
in  the  same  way.  The  pains  are  sharjx^r  of  late,  and 
more  frequent." 

30 


ROSEWAKXE'S    PILGRIMAGE 

"  You  keep  that  little  phial  handy  ?  " 

Rosewarne  showed  where  it  lay,  close  at  hand  in 
his  watch-pocket. 

"  How  long  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  few  months,  perhaps."  The  doctor  seemed 
to  hesitate. 

"  And  you  won't  answer  for  that?  " 

"  With  care.  It  is  folly  for  a  man  like  you  to  be 
overworking." 

Rosewarne  laughed  grimly.  "  You're  right  there, 
and  I've  often  enough  asked  myself  why  I  do  it. 
To  what  end,  good  Lord !  But  I'm  taking  no  care, 
all  the  same.    Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,  my  friend."  The  doctor  did  not  re- 
monstrate further.     He  knew  his  man. 

From  Lockyer  Street  Rosewarne  walked  to  his 
hotel,  ordered  a  beef-steak  and  a  pint  of  champagne, 
and  lunched  leisurably.  Lunch  over,  he  lit  a  cigar, 
and  strolled  in  the  direction  of  the  Barbican.  The 
streets  were  full  of  holiday-keepers,  and  he  counted 
a  dozen  brakes  full  of  workers  pouring  out  of  town 
to  breathe  the  air  of  Dartmoor  on  this  fine  afternoon. 
He  himself  was  conscious  of  elation. 

"  I'll  drink  it  regularly,"  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"  It's  hard  if  a  man  with  maybe  a  month  more  to  live 
cannot  afford  himself  champagne." 

The  air  in  Southside  Street  differed  from  that  of 

31 


SIIIXING    FERRY 

Dartmoor,  being  stuffy,  not  to  say  maloclorons.  TTe 
rappod  on  the  door  of  a  dingy  office,  and  it  Avas  opened 
by  liis  son,  ]\lr.  Sannicl  Rosewarne. 

"  How  d'ye  do,  Sam  'i  "  lie  nodded,  not  offering 
to  shake  hands.  "  All  alone  ?  That's  right.  I  hope, 
by  the  way,  I'm  not  depriving  you  of  a  holiday  ?  " 

"  I  seldom  take  a  holiday,"  Mr.  Sam  answered. 

The  old  man  eyed  him  ironically.  Mr.  Sam  wore 
a  Idack  suit,  with  some  show  of  dingy  white  shirt- 
front,  relieved  by  a  wisp  of  black  cravat  and  two 
onyx  studs.  Ilis  coat-cuffs  were  long  and  frayed,  and 
his  elastic-side  boots  creaked  as  he  led  the  way  to  the 
office. 

In  the  office  the  old  man  came  to  business  at  once. 
"  First  of  all/'  said  he,  with  a  nod  toward  the  safe, 
"  I'd  like  a  glance  into  your  books." 

"  Certairdy,  sir,"  answered  Mr.  Sam,  after  a  mo- 
ment's hesitation.  He  unlocked  the  safe.  "  Do  you 
wish  to  take  the  books  in  order?  You  will  find  it  a 
long  business." 

"  Man,  I  don't  ])ropose  to  audit  your  accounts. 
If  you  let  me  ])ick  and  choose,  half  an  hour  will  tell 
me  all  I  want." 

Well  knowing  that  his  son  detested  the  smell  of 
tobacco,  he  pulled  out  another  cigar  and  lit  it.  "  You 
can  open  the  window,"  said  he,  "  if  you  prefer  the 
smell  of  your  street.     Is  this  the  pass-book  ?  " 

32 


KOSEWAEE^E'S    PILGRIMAGE 

For  about  three-quarters  of  an  hour  he  ransacked 
the  ledgers,  tracking  casual  entries  from  one  to 
another  apparently  at  random.  His  fingers  raced 
through  the  pages.  ]^ow  and  again  he  looked  up  to 
put  a  sharp  question;  and  paused,  drumming  on  the 
table  while  Mr,  Sam  explained.  Once  he  said,  "  Bad 
debt  ?  Not  a  bit ;  the  man  was  right  enough,  if  you 
had  made  inquiries." 

"  I  did  make  inquiries." 

"  Ay,  into  his  balance.  So  you  pinched  him  at 
the  wrong  moment,  and  pinched  out  ninepence  in  the 
pound.  "Wliy  the  devil  couldn't  you  have  learnt  some- 
thing of  the  man?  He  was  all  right.  If  you'd  done 
that,  you  might  have  recovered  every  penny,  earned 
his  gratitude,  and  done  dashed  good  business." 

He  shut  the  ledger  with  a  slam.  "  Lock  'em  up," 
he  commanded,  lighting  a  fresh  cigar,  "  and  come  up 
to  the  Hoe  for  a  stroll.  Where  the  deuce  did  you 
pick  up  that  hat  ?  " 

"  Bankrupt  stock." 

"  I  thought  so.  Maybe  you've  invested  in  a  full 
suit  of  mourning  for  me,  at  the  same  time  ?  " 

"  No,  sir." 

"  Why  not  ?  The  books  are  all  right.  You've  no 
range.  Still,  within  your  scope  you're  efficient. 
You'll  get  to  your  goal,  such  as  it  is.  You  wear  a 
hat  that  makes  mo  ill,  but  in  some  way  you  and  your 

33 


SHINING    FERRY 

hat  will  represent  the  survival  of  the  fittest.  What's 
the  boy  like  ?  " 

"  He  ails  at  times,  sir — being  without  a  mother's 
care.  I  am  having  him  privately  instructed.  He 
has  some  youthful  stirrings  toward  grace." 

Old  Rosewarne  swung  round  at  a  standstill. 
"  Grace  ?  "  he  echoed,  for  the  moment  supposing  it 
the  name  of  a  girl.  Then  perceiving  his  mistake,  he 
broke  out  into  a  short  laugh ;  but  the  laugh  ended 
bitterly,  and  his  face  twitched  with  pain. 

"  Look  here,  Sam ;  I'm  going  to  leave  you  the 
money.  Don't  stare — and  don't,  I  beg,  madden  me 
with  3^our  thanks  " — 

"  I'm  sure,  sir  " — 

"  You'll  get  it  because  I  can't  help  myself. 
There's  your  half-sister's  children  at  home ;  but  of 
what  use  to  me  is  a  girl  or  a  blind  boy  ?  You  are 
narrow — narrow  as  the  grave:  but  I  find  that,  like 
the  grave,  you  are  inevitable ;  and,  like  the  grave,  you 
keep  what  you  get.  For  the  kind  of  finance  that  was 
the  true  game  of  manhood  to  your  grandfather  and 
me,  you  have  no  capacity  whatever.  No,  I  cannot 
explain.  Finance  ?  Why,  you  haven't  even  a 
sense  of  it.  Yet  in  a  way  you  arc  capable.  You 
■\vi\\  make  the  money  yield  interest,  and  will  keep 
the  race  going.  That  is  what  I  look  to — you  will 
keep  the  race  going.     Now  I  want  to  speak  about 

34 


ROSEWARNE'S    PILGRIMAGE 

that  boj  of  yours.  Do  me  the  only  favour  I  have 
ever  asked  you — send  him  to  a  public  school,  and 
afterwards  to  college,  and  let  him  have  his  fling." 

Sam  thought  his  father  must  have  gone  mad. 
"  What,  sir  !  After  all  you  have  said  of  such  places ! 
'  Dens  of  idleness,'  '  sinks  of  iniquity  ' — I  have  heard 
you  scores  of  times !  " 

"  I  spoke  as  a  fool.  'Twas  my  punishment,  per- 
haps, to  believe  it ;  but.  Lord !  "—he  eyed  his  son  up 
and  down — "  to  think  my  punishment  should  take  this 
form  !  "  He  caught  Sam's  arm  suddenly  and  wheeled 
him  about  in  face  of  a  glass  shop-front.  "  Man,  look 
at  yourself !  Make  the  boy  something  different  from 
that!  Do  what  I'd  have  done  for  you  if  ever  you 
had  given  me  a  chance.  Turn  him  loose  among 
gentlemen;  don't  be  afraid  if  he  idles  and  wastes 
money;  let  him  riot  out  his  youth  if  he  will — he'll 
be  learning  all  the  time,  learning  something  you 
don't  know  how  to  teach,  and  maybe  when  his 
purse  is  emptied  he'll  come  back  to  you  a  gentle- 
man. I  tell  you  there's  no  difference  in  the  world  like 
that  between  a  gentleman  and  a  man  who's  not  a 
gentleman.  Money  can't  buy  it ;  and,  after  the  start, 
money  can't  change  or  hide  it.  The  thing  is  there, 
or  it  isn  t. 

"  Whatever  the  thing  is,"  said  Sam  sullenly, 
"  you  are  asking  me  to  peril  my  son's  soul  for  it." 

35 


STITNTNG    FERRY 

They  had  reached  the  Iloe  by  this  time.  John 
Rosewarne  dropped  upon  a  bench  and  sat  resting  both 
hands  on  liis  staff  and  gazing  over  the  twinkling 
waters  of  the  Sound. 

"  Anne  married  a  gentleman,"  pursued  Sam. 

"  Ay,  and  a  rake.  A-ah  !  "  muttered  the  old  man 
after  a  moment,  drawing  a  long  breath,  "  if  only 
that  boy  of  hers  weren't  blind  !  But  he  doesn't  carry 
the  name,  wliih^  you  " —  He  broke  off  with  a  savage 
laugh.  "  What's  that  you  said  a  moment  ago  ? — some- 
thing about  immortal  souls." 

''  I  said  there's  a  world  beyond  this,  and  " — 

"  Is  there  ?  That's  what  I'm  concerned  to  know, 
just  now.  And  you?  What  are  you  proposing  to  do 
when  you  get  there  ?  "  He  withdrew  his  eyes  from 
the  bright  seascape  and  let  them  travel  slowly  over 
his  son.  "  You!  sitting  there  like  a  blot  on  God's 
sunshine !  By  what  right  should  you  expect  another 
world,  who  have  cut  such  a  figure  in  this  one  ?  I  have 
knowm  love  and  lust,  and  drink  and  hard  work  and 
hard  fighting;  T  have  been  down  in  the  depths,  and 
again  I  have  known  moments  to  make  a  man  smack 
his  hands  together  for  joy  to  be  alive  and  doing.  But 
you?  "\ATiat  kind  of  man  are  you,  you  son  of  mine? 
WTiat  do  you  live  for  ?  Why  did  you  marry  ?  And 
what  did  you  and  your  poor  woman  find  to  talk 
about  ?  " 

36 


ROSEWAEXE'S    PILGRIMAGE 

Whatever  bullying  Sam  suffered,  he  had  his  re- 
venge in  this — that  he  and  no  other  man  could  ex- 
asperate his  father  to  weakness.  He  rubbed  his  thin 
side  whi.skers  now  and  muttered  something  about  *'  an 
acceptable  sacrifice." 

The  old  man  jabbed  viciously  at  the  gravel  with 
his  staff,  "  And  your  religion  ?  "  he  broke  forth 
again.  ''  What  is  it  ?  In  some  secret  way  it  satis- 
fies you — but  how  ?  I  look  into  the  Bible,  and  I  find 
that  the  whole  of  religion  rests  on  a  man's  giving  him- 
self away  to  help  others.  I  don't  believe  in  it  myself ; 
I  believe  in  the  exact  contrary.  Still  there  the  thing 
is,  set  out  in  black  and  white.  It  upsets  law  and 
soldiering  and  nine-tenths  of  men's  doings  in  trade : 
to  me  it's  folly;  but  so  it  stands,  honest  as  daylight. 
When  did  you  help  a  man  down  on  his  luck  ?  or  for- 
give your  debtor  ?  You'll  get  my  money  because  you 
never  did  aught  of  the  kind.  Yet  somehow  you're 
a  Christian,  and  prate  of  your  mean  life  as  an  accept- 
able sacrifice.  In  my  belief  you're  a  Christian  pre- 
cisely because  Christianity — how  you  work  it  out  I 
don't  know — will  give  you  a  sanction  for  any  dirty 
trick  that  comes  in  your  way.  When  good  feeling, 
or  even  common  honour,  denies  you,  there's  always  a 
text  somewhere  to  oil  your  conscience." 

"  I've  one,  sir,  on  which  I  can  rely — '  Be  just,  and 
fear  not.'  " 

37 


SHINING   FERRY 

"  I'll  test  it.  You'll  have  my  money ;  on  wliicli 
you  hardly  dared  to  count,  eh  ?     Be  honest." 

"  Only  on  so  much  of  it  as  is  entailed,  sir." 

For  a  while  John  Rosewarne  sat  silent,  with  his 
eyes  on  the  horizon. 

"  That,"  said  he  at  length,  "  is  just  what  you 
could  not  count  on."  He  turned  and  looked  Sara 
squarely  in  the  face.  "  You  were  born  out  of  wed- 
lock, my  son." 

Sam's  hand  gripped  the  iron  arm  of  the  bench. 
The  muscles  of  his  face  scarcely  moved,  but  its  sallow 
tint  changed,  under  his  father's  eyes,  to  a  sickly  drab. 

"  Ay,"  i)ursucd  tlio  old  man,  "  T  am  sorry  for  you 
at  this  moment;  but  you  mustn't  look  for  apologies 
and  repentance  and  tliat  sort  of  thing.  The  fact  is, 
I  never  could  feel  about  it  in  that  way.  I  was  young 
and  fairly  wild,  and  it  happened.  One  doesn't  think 
of  possilde  injury  to  someone  who  doesn't  yet  exist. 
But  that,  I  grant  you,  doesn't  make  it  any  the  less  an 
injury.     Now  wliat  have  you  to  say?" 

"  The  sins  of  the  fathers  " — 

" — are  visited  on  tlic  children:  quite  so.  After- 
wards we  did  our  best,  and  maiiicih  No  one  knows; 
no  one  has  ever  guessed  ;  ami  the  proof  would  be  hard 
to  trace.  In  case  of  accident,  I  give  you  Port  Royal 
for  a  clue." 

Sam  rose  and  stood  for  a  moment  staring  gloom- 

38 


EOSEWARKE'S    PILGRlAIAGE 

ily  down  on  the  gravel.  "  Wliy  did  you  tell  me, 
then  ?  "  he  broke  out.  "  What  need  was  there  to 
tell?" 

His  father  winced,  for  the  first  time.  "  I  see 
your  point.  Why  didn't  I,  you  ask,  having  played 
the  game  so  far,  play  it  out?  Why  couldn't  I  take 
my  secret  with  me  into  the  last  darkness,  and  be 
judged  for  it — my  own  sole  sin  and  complete  ?  Well, 
but  there's  the  blind  child.  By  law  the  house  and 
home  estate  would  be  his.  I  might  have  kept  silence, 
to  be  sure,  and  let  him  be  robbed;  but  somehow  I 
couldn't.     I've  a  conscience  somewhere,  I  suppose." 

"  Have  you  ? "  Sam  flamed  out,  with  sudden 
spirit.  "  A  nice  sort  of  conscience  it  must  be !  I  call 
it  cowardice,  this  dragging  me  in  to  help  you  com- 
pensate the  child.  Conscience  ?  If  you  had  one,  you 
wouldn't  be  shifting  the  responsibility  on  to  mine." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  his  father  calmly. 
"  And,  by  the  way,  I  advise  you  not  to  take  that  tone 
with  me.  It  may  all  be  very  proper  under  the  cir- 
cumstances; but  there's  the  simple  fact  that  I  won't 
stand  it.  You're  mistaken,"  he  repeated.  "  I  mean 
to  settle  the  compensation  alone,  without  consulting 
you;  though,  by  George!  if  'twercn't  for  pitying  the 
poor  child,  I'd  like  to  leave  it  to  you  as  a  religious 
man,  and  watch  you  developing  your  reasons  for  giv- 
ing him  nothing." 

39 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  And  it  was  jou,"  muttered  Sam,  with  a  kind 

of  stony  wonder,  "  who  advised  me  just  now  to  let 

my  son  run  wild  !  " 

"  I  did,  and  I  do."     John  Rosewarne  stood  up 

and  gripped  his  staff.     "  By  the  way,  too,"  he  said, 

"  your  mother  was  a  good  woman." 

"  I  don't  want  to  hear  anything  about  it." 

^' I  kiKAv;  hut  I  waiited  to  tell  you.     Good-bye." 

lie  turned  abru])tly  and  went  his  way  down  the 

hill.     As  he  went,  his  lips  moved.     He  was  talking 

not  to  himself,  but  to  an  unseen  companion — 

"Mary!   Mary! — that  this  should  be  the  fruit 

of  our  sowing !  " 


40 


CHAPTER   IV 


eosewarne's  penance 


Beside  the  winding  Avon  above  Warwick  bridge 
there  stretches  a  flat  meadow,  along  the  brink  of  which 
on  a  summer  evening  you  may  often  count  a  score  of 
anglers  seated  and  watching  their  floats ;  decent  citi- 
zens of  Warwick,  with  a  sprinkling  of  redcoats  from 
the  garrison.  They  say  that  two-thirds  of  the  Trap- 
pist  brotherhood  are  ex-soldiers ;  and  perhaps  if  we 
knew  the  reason  we  might  also  know  why  angling  has 
a  peculiar  fascination  for  the  military. 

Angling  was  but  a  pretext,  however,  with  a  young 
corporal  of  the  6th  Regiment,  who  sat  a  few  yards 
away  on  John  Rosewarne's  right,  and  smoked  his 
pipe,  and  cast  frequent  furtive  glances,  now  along  the 
river  path,  now  back  and  across  the  meadow  where 
another  path  led  from  the  town.  Each  of  these 
glances  ended  in  a  resentful  stare  at  his  too-near 
neighbour,  who  fished  on  unregarding. 

"Is  this  a  favourite  corner  of  yours?"  the  cor- 
poral asked  after  a  while,  with  meaning. 

"  I  have  fished  on  this  exact  spot  for  thirty-five 

41 


SHINING   FERKY 

years,"  answered  Jolin  Rosewarnc,  not  lifting  his 
eyes  from  the  float. 

The  corporal  whistled.  "  Thirty-five  years!  It's 
queer,  now,  that  I  never  set  eyes  on  you  before — 
and  I  come  here  pretty  often." 

Eosewarne  let  a  full  minute  go  by  before  he  an- 
swered again.  "  There's  nothing  queer  about  it,  un- 
less you've  been  stationed  long  in  Warwick." 

"  Best  part  of  a  year." 

"  Quite  so :  I  fish  in  Avon  once  a  year  only." 

"  Belong  to  the  town  ?  " 

"  No ;  nor  within  two  hundred  miles  of  it." 

"  You  must  think  better  of  the  sport  than  I  do, 
to  come  all  that  distance." 

John  Eosewarne  lifted  his  eyes  for  the  first  time 
and  turned  them  upon  the  young  man. 

"  What  sport  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Eh?  Why,  fishing,  to  be  sure.  What  else?" 
stammered  the  corporal,  taken  aback. 

"  Tut !  "  said  the  old  man  curtly.  "  Here  she 
comes.     Now,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Without  waiting  for  an  answer,  he  bent  his  gaze 
on  the  float  again,  and  kept  it  fastened  there,  as  a 
pretty  shop-girl  came  strolling  along  the  river  path. 
She  had  taken  oif  her  hat,  of  broad-brimmed  straw 
with  artificial  poppies  and  cornflowers,  and  swung 
it    in    her    hand    as    she    came.     Her   eyes   roamed 

42 


EOSEWAEI^E'S    PENANCE 

the  landscape  carelessly,  avoiding  only  that  par- 
ticular spot  where  the  corporal,  as  she  approached, 
scrambled  to  his  feet ;  then,  her  start  of  surprise  was 
admirable. 

"  Oh,  it's  you!     Good-evening." 

"  Good-evening,  miss." 

"  Why,  whoever — !  It  seems  to  me  you  spend 
most  of  your  time  fishing." 

She  paused,  gathering  in  her  skirt  a  little — and 
this  obviously  was  the  cue  for  a  gallant  soldier.  The 
corporal  began,  indeed,  to  wind  up  his  line,  but  with 
a  foolish  grin  and  a  glance  at  Rosewarne's  back. 

"  It  keeps  beautiful  weather,"  he  answered  at 
length. 

"  /  call  it  sultry."  She  held  out  her  hat  with  a 
little  deprecating  laugh.  "  I  took  it  off  for  the  sake 
of  fresh  air,"  she  explained.  Then,  as  he  stood  stock- 
still,  a  flush  crept  up  her  cheek  to  her  pretty  fore- 
head. 

"  Well,  good-evening ;  I  won't  interrupt  you  by 
talking,"  she  said,  and  l>egan  to  move  away. 

"  Come  to  think  of  it,  it  do  look  like  thunder," 
the  corporal  remarked  to  Rosewarne,  staring  after 
her  and  then  up  at  the  sky. 

"  If  you  had  ryes  in  your  head,  you'd  have  seen 
that  without  her  telling  you.  That  cloud  yonder  has 
been  rising  against  the  wind  for  an  hour.     Look  you 

43 


SHINING   FERRY 

along  the  bank,  how  every  man  Jack  is  nnjointing 
his  rod  and  making  for  home.  Go,  and  leave  me  in 
peace !  " 

He  did  not  turn  his  head  even  when  the  corporal, 
having  packed  together  his  gear,  wished  him  good- 
night and  hurried  after  the  print  frock  as  it  vanished 
in  the  twilit  shadows.  One  or  two  of  the  departing 
anglers  paused  as  they  went  by  to  promise  him  that 
a  storm  was  imminent  and  the  fish  had  ceased  feed- 
ing, lie  thanked  them,  yet  sat  on — solitary,  in  the 
leaden  dusk. 

Tlie  scene  he  had  just  witnessed — how^  it  called 
up  the  irremediable  past,  with  all  the  memories  which 
had  drawn  him  hither,  summer  after  summer!  And 
yet  how  common  it  was  and  minutely  unimportant! 
Nightly  by  the  banks  of  Avon  couples  had  been 
courting — thousands  in  these  thirty-five  years — each 
of  them  dreaming,  poor  fools,  that  their  moment's 
passion  held  the  world  in  its  hands.  But  tlio  world 
teemed  with  rivc7's  ten  times  loi-dlior  than  Avon — 
rivers  stretching  out  in  an  endless  map,  with  bridges 
on  which  lovers  met  and  whispered,  with  banks  doAvn 
which  they  went  witli  linked  arms  into  the  shadows — 

"Were  I  but  younj^  for  thee,  as  I  hae  been, 
We  should  hae  been  ^allopin'  doun  in  yon  green. 
And  linkin'  it  owre  the  lily-white  lea — 
And  wow  gin  I  were  but  young  for  thee  I  " 

44 


EOSEWAKNE'S    PENANCE 

He  had  been  joung,  and  had  loved  and  wronged 
a  woman,  and  bitterly  repented.  He  had  married  her, 
and  marriage  had  killed  neither  love  nor  remorse. 
The  woman  was  dead  long  since:  he  had  married 
again,  bnt  never  forgotten  her  nor  ceased  to  repent. 
She,  a  petty  tradesman's  daughter  of  Warwick,  had 
collected  her  savings  and  taken  ship  for  the  West  In- 
dies, trusting  to  his  word,  facing  a  winter's  passage 
in  the  sole  hope  that  he  would  right  her.  Until  the 
day  of  embarking  she  had  never  seen  the  sea ;  and 
the  sea,  after  buffeting  her  to  the  verge  of  death,  in 
the  end  betrayed  her.  A  gale  delayed  the  ship, 
and  in  the  height  of  it  her  child  was  born.  Rose- 
warne,  a  private  soldier,  went  to  his  captain  as  soon 
as  she  was  landed,  made  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and  mar- 
ried her.  But  it  was  too  late.  She  lived  to  return 
with  him  to  England  ;  but  he  knew  well  enough  when 
she  died  that  her  sufferings  on  the  passage  out,  and 
the  abiding  anguish  of  her  shame,  had  killed  her. 
A  common  tale !  Men  and  women  still  go  the 
way  of  their  instinct,  by  which  the  race  survives. 
"  All  the  rivers  run  into  the  sea,  and  yet  the  sea  is 
not  full.  The  thing  that  hath  been,  it  is  that  which 
shall  be,  and  that  which  is  done  is  that  which  shall 
be  done." 

A  tale  as  common  as  sunset !  Yet  upon  all  rivers 
and  upon  every  bridge  and  willow-walk  along  their 

45 


SHINING    FERRY 

courses  the  indifferent  sun  shines  for  each  pair  of 
fools  with  a  difference,  lighting  their  passion  with  a 
separate  flame.  The  woman  was  dead ;  and  he — he 
that  had  been  young — sat  face  to  face  with  death. 

He  leaned  forward,  oblivious  of  the  clouded  dusk, 
with  his  half-shut  eyes  watching  the  grey  gleam  of 
the  river ;  but  his  mind's  eye  saw  the  shadowy  mead 
behind  liini,  and  a  girlish  figure  crossing  it  with  feet 
that  seemed  to  faint,  holding  her  back  from  doom, 
yet  to  be  impelled  against  their  will. 

They  drew  nearer.  He  heard  their  step,  and  faced 
about  with  a  start.  An  actual  woman  stood  there  on 
the  river  path,  most  like  in  the  dusk  to  that  other  of 
thirty-five  years  ago;  but  whereas  she  had  worn  a 
print  frock,  tliis  one  was  clad  in  total  black. 

"  Mr.  Rosewarne  " —  she  began ;  but  her  words 
came  to  a  halt,  checked  by  a  near  flash  of  lightning 
and  by  what  it  revealed. 

He  was  in  the  act  of  rising — had  risen,  in  fact, 
on  one  knee — when  a  spasm  of  pain  took  him,  and  his 
hand  went  up  to  his  breast.  For  a  moment  he  knelt 
so,  turning  on  her  a  face  of  anguish;  then  sank  and 
dropped  in  a  heap  at  her  feet. 

Quick  as  thought  she  was  down  on  her  knees  be- 
side hiiu,  and,  slipping  an  arm  beneath  his  head,  drew 
it  upon  her  lap.  While  with  swift  fingers  she  loosened 
his  collar  and  neckcloth,  a  peal  of  thunder  rumbled 

46 


KOSEWARNE'S    PENANCE 

out,  and  the  first  large  raindrops  fell  splashing  on 
her  hand.  She  recalled  that  last  gesture  of  his,  and 
with  sudden  inspiration  searched  in  his  breast-pocket, 
found  and  drew  out  a  small  phial,  uncorked  it,  and 
forced  the  liquid  between  his  teeth  before  they 
clenched  in  a  second  spasm.  Two  or  three  sharp 
flashes  followed  the  first.  In  the  glare  of  them  her 
eyes  searched  along  the  river-bank,  if  haply  help 
might  be  near;  but  all  the  anglers  had  departed. 
Eosewarne's  face  stared  up  at  her,  blue  as  a  dead 
man's  in  the  dazzling  light.  At  first  it  seemed  to 
twitch  with  each  opening  of  the  heavens ;  but  this 
must  have  been  a  trick  of  eyesight,  for  his  head  lay 
quiet  against  her  arm  as  she  raised  him  a  little,  shield- 
ing him  against  the  torrential  rain  which  now  hissed 
down,  in  ten  seconds  drenching  her  to  the  skin,  blot- 
ting out  river  and  meadow  in  a  sheet  of  grey.  It 
forced  her  to  stoop  her  shoulders,  and,  so  covering  him, 
she  put  out  a  hand  and  laid  it  ov^^r  his  heart.  Yes,  it 
beat,  though  feebly.  Once  more  she  picked  up  the 
phial  and  gave  him  to  drink,  and  in  a  little  while  he 
stirred  feebly  and  found  his  voice. 

"  Rain  ?    Is  it  rain  ?  "  he  muttered. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  can  spread  my  skirt  over  you.     It 
will  keep  off  a  little.    Are  you  better  ?  " 

"  Better  ?    Yes,  better.    Let  me  feel  the  rain — it 
does  me  good."     He  lay  silent  for  a  minute  or  so. 

47 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  I  shall  be  ri^ht  agniii  in  a  few  minutes.    Did  you 
find  the  phial?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Good  girl.  It  was  touch  and  go."  By  and  by 
he  made  a  movement  to  sit  uj).  "  Let  us  get  home 
quickly.  You  can  throw  the  rod  into  the  river.  I 
shan't  want  it  again." 

But  she  stood  up,  and,  groping  for  the  rod,  drew 
the  float  ashore  and  untackled  it,  still  in  the  hiss- 
ing rain.  The  storm,  after  a  brief  lull,  had  redoubled 
its  rage.  The  darkness  opened  and  shut  as  with  a 
rapidly  moving  slide,  the  white  battlements  of  Caesar's 
Tower  gleaming  and  vanishing  above  the  castle  elms, 
and  reappearing  while  their  fierce  candour  yet  blinded 
the  eye.  The  thunder-peals,  blending,  wrapped  War- 
wick as  with  one  roar  of  artillery.  Rosewarne  had 
risen,  and  stood  panting.  He  grasped  her  shoulder. 
"  Come !  "  he  commanded.  The  girl,  dazzled  by 
the  lightning,  puzzled  by  his  sudden  renewal  of 
strength,  turned  and  peered  at  him.  He  declined 
her  arm.  They  walked  back  across  the  sodden 
meadow  to  the  town,  over  the  roofs  of  which,  as  the 
storm  passed  away  northward,  the  lightning  yet 
glimmered  at  intervals,  turning  the  gaslights  to  a 
dirty  orange. 

At  the  summit  of  the  High  Street,  hard  by  the 
Leycester  Hospital,  they  came  to  the  doorwaj'^  of  a 

48 


EOSEWAENE'S    PENANCE 

small  shuttered  shop,  over  which  by  the  light  of  a 
street  lamp  one  could  read  the  legend,  "  J.  Marvin^ 
SECOND  -  HAND  BOOKSELLEE."  The  girl 
opened  the  door  with  a  latchkey.  An  oil  lamp  burned 
in  an  office  at  the  back  of  the  shop — if  that  can  be 
spoken  of  as  a  separate  room  which  was,  in  fact,  en- 
tirely walled  off  with  books  laid  flat  and  rising  in 
stacks  from  the  floor.  The  place,  in  fact,  suggested 
a  cave  or  den  rather  than  a  shop,  with  stalagmites  of 
piled  literature  and  a  subtle  pervading  odour  of  dust 
and  decayed  leather.  The  girl,  after  shutting  the 
bolts  behind  her,  led  the  way  cautiously,  and,  crossing 
a  passage  at  the  rear  of  the  shop,  opened  a  door  upon 
a  far  more  cheerful  scene.  Here,  in  a  neat  parlour 
hung  with  old  prints  and  mezzotints  and  water-col- 
ours, a  hanging  lamp  shed  its  rays  on  a  china  bowl 
heaped  with  Warwickshire  roses,  and  on  a  white  cloth 
and  a  table  spread  for  supper. 

"  H'm  !  "  grunted  Eosewarne,  glancing  in  through 
the  doorway,  while  she  lit  a  candle  for  him  at  the 
foot  of  the  stairs.  "  Your  father  and  I  used  to  sup  in 
the  kitchen,  with  old  Selina  to  wait  on  us." 

"  But  since  there  is  no  longer  any  Selina  !  I  had 
to  pension  her  off,  poor  old  soul,  and  she  is  gone  to 
the  almshouse." 

She  handed  him  the  light. 

"  Now,  if  you  will  go  up  to  your  room,  I  will 

49 


SHINING    FERRY 

fetch  the  hot  water,  and  then  jon  must  give  me  your 
change  of  clothes.  They  shall  be  warmed  for  a  few 
minutes  at  the  kitchen  fire,  and  you  shall  have  them 
hot-and-hot." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  while  all  this  is  doing,  you 
will  stand  an  excellent  chance  of  rheumatic  fever." 

"  Oh,  I  shall  be  all  right,"  she  announced  cheer- 
fully. "  No — don't  look  at  me,  please.  I  know  very 
well  that  the  dye  has  run  out  of  these  crapes,  and  my 
face  is  beautifully  streaked  with  black !  Can  you  walk 
upstairs  alone  ?  Very  well.  And  if  you  feel  another 
attack  coming,  you  are  to  call  me  at  once." 

She  must  have  been  expeditious ;  for  when  he 
came  downstairs  again  he  found  her  awaiting  him  in 
the  parlour,  clad  in  a  frock  of  duffel-grey,  which,  with 
her  damp,  closely  plaited  hair,  gave  her  a  Quakerish 
look.  Yet  the  frock  became  her;  the  natural  wave 
of  her  hair,  defying  moisture,  showed  here  and  there 
rebelliously,  and  her  cheeks  glowed  after  a  vigorous 
towelling. 

Rosewarne  drew  from  under  his  coat  a  bottle  of 
champagne,  and  set  it  on  the  table,  where  the  lamp's 
ray  fell  full  on  its  gold  foil.  Her  eyes  opened  wide; 
for  he  had  always  visited  this  house  in  his  oldest 
clothes  and  passed  for  a  poor  man. 

"  Since  you  insist  upon  tlic  parlour,"  said  he,  "  I 
must  try  to  live  up  to  it."    He  produced  a  knife  from 

50 


ROSEWARNE'S    PENANCE 

his  pocket,  with  a  pair  of  nippers,  and  began  to  cut 
the  wire.  "  Why  are  you  wearing  grey  ?  "  he  de- 
manded. 

She  flushed.  ''  This  is  my  school  frock.  I  have 
only  one  suit  of  mourning  as  yet." 

"  And  you  sent  away  Selina.  You  wanted  money, 
I  suppose  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered,  after  a  moment,  meeting  his 
eyes  frankly ;  "  at  least,  not  in  the  way  you  mean. 
The  doctor's  hills  were  heavy,  and  for  years  father 
had  done  business  enough  to  keep  the  roof  over  him 
and  no  more.  So  at  first  there  was — well,  a  pinch. 
The  books  will  sell,  of  course;  two  honest  men  are 
already  bidding  for  them — one  at  Birmingham  and 
the  other  at  Bristol.  But  meanwhile  I  must  pinch  a 
little  or  run  in  debt.     I  hate  debt." 

"  And  afterwards  ?  "  Rosewarne  broke  off  sharp- 
ly, with  a  glance  around  the  table.  ''  But,  excuse  me, 
you  have  laid  for  one  only." 

"  If  it  is  your  pleasure,  Mr.  Rosewarne  " — 

"  Say  that  I  claim  it  as  an  honour.  Miss  Hester," 
he  answered,  with  a  mock-serious  bow. 

She  laughed,  and  ran  off  to  the  pantry. 

"  And  afterwards  ? "  he  resumed,  as  the}'  seated 
themselves. 

"  Afterwards  ?  Oh,  I  go  back  to  the  teaching.  I 
like  it,  you  know." 

51 


SHINING    FEERY 

He  brimmed  lier  glass  with  champagne,  then  filled 
his  own.  "  You  saved  my  life  just  now,  Miss  Hes- 
ter; and  life  is  good  to  look  forward  to,  even  when 
a  very  little  remains.    I  drink  to  yonr  happiness." 

"  Thank  yon,  sir." 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  shall  be  twenty-five  in  August." 

"And  how  long  have  you  been  teaching?" 

"  Eight  years." 

"  Ah !  is  it  eight  years  since  I  came  and  missed 
you  ?  I  remember,  the  last  time  we  three  supped  to- 
gether— ^you  and  your  father  and  I — I  remember  tak- 
ing note  of  you,  and  telling  myself,  '  She  will  be  mar- 
ried before  I  return  next  year.'  Why  haven't  you 
married  ?  " 

It  was  the  essence  of  Hester  Marvin's  charm  that 
she  dealt  strnightly  with  :ill  people. 

"  It  takes  two  to  make  even  that  quarrel,"  she 
answered,  frankly  and  gaily.  "  Will  you  believe  that 
nobody  has  ever  asked  me  ?  " 

"Make  light  of  it  if  you  will,  but  I  bid  you  to 
beware.  You  were  a  good-looking  missie,  and  you 
have  grown — yes,  one  can  say  it  without  making  you 
simper — into  a  more  than  good-looking  woman.  But 
the  days  slip  by,  child,  and  your  looks  will  slip  away 
Avith  them.  You  are  wasting  your  life  in  worrying 
over  other  folks'  children.     Those  eyes  of  yours  were 

52 


EOSEWARNE'S    PENANCE 

meant  for  children  of  your  own.  What's  more,  you 
are  muddling  the  world's  work.  Which  do  you  teach, 
now — hoys  or  girls  ?  " 

"  Girls  for  the  most  part ;  but  I  have  a  class  of 
small  boys." 

"  And  what  do  you  teach  'em — I  mean,  as  the 
first  and  most  important  thing  ?  " 

Hester  knit  her  brows  for  a  moment  before  an- 
swering. "  Well,  I  suppose,  to  be  honourable  to  one 
another  and  gentle  to  their  sisters." 

"  Just  so.  In  other  words,  you  relieve  a  mother 
of  her  proper  duty.  Who  but  a  mother  ought  to 
teach  a  boy  those  things,  if  he's  ever  to  learn  'em  ? 
That's  what  I  call  muddling  the  world's  work.  By 
the  time  a  boy  gets  to  school  he  ought  to  be  ripe  for 
a  harder  lesson,  and  learn  that  life's  a  fight  in  which 
brains  and  toil  bring  a  man  to  the  top.  As  for  girls, 
one-half  of  present-day  teaching  is  time  and  money 
thrown  away.  Teach  'em  to  be  wives  and  mothers 
— to  sew  and  cook  " — 

"  Does  your  supper  displease  you,  Mr.  Rose- 
warne  ?  " 

He  set  down  knife  and  fork  with  a  comical  stare 
around  the  Iward. 

"  Eh  ?    No— but  did  you  really—  ?  " 

Their  eyes  met,  and  they  bnfli  l)roke  into  a  laugh. 

"  I  should  very  much  like  to  know,"  said  Hes- 

53 


SHINING    FEKRY 

ter,  resting  lior  elbows  on  the  table  and  gazing  at 
liini  over  her  folded  hands,  "  if  you  have  treated 
life  as  a  fight  in  which  men  get  the  better  of  their 
neighbours." 

He  eyed  her  with  sudden,  sharp  suspicion. 

"  You  have  at  any  rate  a  woman's  curiosity," 
said  he.  "  When  you  wrote  to  me  that  your  father 
was  dead,  but  that  I  might  have,  for  the  last  time, 
my  usual  lodging  here,  had  you  any  reason  to  suppose 
me  a  rich  man  ?  " 

^'  I  think,"  answered  Hester  slowly,  after  a  pause, 
"  that  I  must  have  spoken  so  as  to  hurt  you  some- 
how. If  so,  I  am  sorry;  but  you  must  hear  now 
just  why  I  wrote.  I  knew  that,  ever  since  I  was  born, 
and  long  before,  you  had  come  once  a  year  and  lodged 
here  for  a  night.  I  knew  that  you  came  because  my 
father  was  the  parish  clerk  and  let  you  spend  the 
night  in  St.  Mary's  Church ;  and  I  know  that,  though 
he  allowed  it  secretly,  you  did  no  harm  there,  else 
he  would  never  have  allowed  it.  Now  he  is  dead, 
and  meanwhile  I  keep  the  keys  by  the  parson's  wish 
until  a  new  joarish  clerk  is  appointed.  And  so  I 
wa'ote,  thinking  to  serve  you  for  one  year  more  as  my 
father  had  served  you  for  many." 

"  I  thank  you.  Miss  Hester,  and  I  beg  your  par- 
don. Yet  there  is  a  question  I  need  to  ask,  though 
you  may  very  properly  refuse  to  answer  it.     Beyond 

54 


EOSEWARNE'S    PEKANCE 

my  name  and  address  and  my  yearly  visits,  what  do 
you  know  of  me  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all." 

"  You  must  have  wondered  why  I  should  do  this 
strange  thing,  year  hy  year  ? " 

"  To  wonder  is  not  to  be  inquisitive.  Of  course 
I  have  wondered;  but  I  supposed  that  you  came  to 
strengthen  yourself  in  some  purpose,  or  to  keep  alive 
a  memory — of  someone  dear  to  you,  perhaps.  Into 
what  has  brought  you  to  us  year  after  year  I  have 
no  wish  at  all  to  pry.  But  there  is  a  look  on  your  face 
— and  when  children  come  to  me  with  that  look  they 
are  unhappy  with  some  secret,  and  want  to  be  under- 
stood without  having  to  tell  all  particulars.  A  school- 
mistress gets  to  know  that  look,  and  recognises  it 
sometimes  in  grown-up  folk,  even  in  qurte  old  persons. 
Yes,  and  there  is  another  look  on  your  face.  You 
are  not  strong  enough  to  go  alone  to  the  church  to- 
night, and  you  know  it." 

"  I  am  going,  I  tell  you." 

He  had  pushed  back  his  chair,  and  answered  her, 
after  a  long  pause,  during  which  he  watched  her  re- 
moving the  cloth. 

"  To-morrow  you  may  have  recovered ;  but  to- 
night you  are  faint  from  that  attack.  If  you  really 
must  go,  will  you  not  let  me  go  too,  and  take  my 
promise  neither  to  look  nor  to  listen  ?  " 

55 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Get  me  the  key,"  he  commanded,  and  walked  ob- 
Htinatoly  to  the  door.  But  there  his  strength  betrayed 
him.  He  put  out  a  hand  against  the  jamb.  "  I  am 
no  better  than  a  child,"  he  groaned,  and  turned  weakly 
to  her.  "  Come  if  you  will,  girl.  There  is  nothing 
to  see,  nothing  to  overhear." 

She  fetched  cloak  and  bonnet  and  found  the  great 
keys.  He  and  she  stepped  out  by  a  back  entrance  upon 
a  lane  leading  to  the  church.  The  storm  had  passed. 
Aloft,  in  a  clear  space  of  the  sky,  the  moon  rode  and 
a  few  stars  shone  down  whitely,  as  if  with  freshly 
washed  faces.  Hester  carried  a  dark  lantern  under 
her  cloak ;  but,  within,  the  church  was  light  enough 
for  Rosewarne  to  grope  his  way  to  his  accustomed 
pew.  Hester  saw  him  take  his  seat  there,  and  choos- 
ing a  pew  at  some  distance,  in  the  shadow  of  the  south 
aisle,  dropped  on  her  knees. 

Nothing  happened.  The  tall  figure  in  the  chancel 
sat  motionless.  Rosewarne  did  not  even  pray — since 
he  did  not  believe  in  God.  But  because  a  woman,  now 
long  dead,  had  believed  and  had  implored  him  to 
believe  also,  that  they  two  might  one  day  meet  in 
heaven,  he  consecrated  this  night  t<»  her,  sitting  in  the 
habitation  of  her  faith,  keeping  his  gaze  upon  that 
spot  in  the  darkness  where  on  a  bright  Sunday  morn- 
ing a  young  soldier  had  caught  sight  of  her  and  met 
her  eyes  for  the  first  time.    Year  after  year  he  had 

56 


EOSEWAENE'S    PENAXCE 

kept  this  vigil,  concentrating  his  thought  upon  her 
and  her  faith ;  bnt  never  for  an  instant  had  that 
faith  come  near  to  touching  him,  except  with  a  senti- 
mental pity  which  he  rejected,  despising  it ;  never  had 
he  come  near  to  piercing  the  well  of  that  mysterious 
comfort  and  releasing  its  waters.  To  him  the  dust 
of  the  great  dead  yonder  in  the  Beauchamp  Chapel 
— dust  of  men  and  women  who  had  died  in  faith — 
was  dust  merely,  arid,  unbedewed  by  any  promise  of 
a  life  beyond.  They  had  played  their  parts,  and  great 
tombs  and  canopies  covered  their  final  nothingness. 
This  was  the  last  time  he  would  watch,  and  to-night 
he  knew  there  was  less  chance  than  ever  of  any  mir- 
acle ;  for  weariness  weighed  on  him,  and  the  thought 
of  coming  annihilation  held  no  terror,  but  only  an  in- 
vitation to  be  at  rest. 

From  the  tower  overhead  the  airy  chimes  floated 
over  Warwick,  beating  out  a  homely  tune  to  mingle 
with  homely  dreams.     He  sat  on,  nor  stirred. 

The  June  dawn  broke,  with  the  twittering  of 
birds  in  the  churchyard.  lie  stood  up  and  stretched 
himself,  with  a  frown  for  the  painted  windows  with 
their  unreal  saints  and  martyrs.  His  footsteps  as  he 
walked  down  the  aisle  did  not  arouse  the  girl,  who 
slept  in  the  corner  of  the  pew,  with  her  loosened  hair 
pencilling,  as  the  dawn  touched  it,  lines  of  red-gold 

57 


SHINING   FERRY 

light  upon  the  dark  panels.     Her  face  was  pale,  and 
sleep  gave  it  a  childlike  beauty.     He  understood,  as 
he  stooped  and  touched  her  shoulder,  why  the  appari- 
tion of  her  on  the  river-hank  had  so  startled  him. 
"  Come,  child,"  he  said ;  "  the  night  is  over." 


58 


CHAPTER   Y 

THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWARDSHIP 

A  STEANGE  impatience  haunted  Rosewarne  on  his 
homeward  journey;  an  almost  intolerable  longing  to 
arrive  and  get  something  over — he  scarcely  knew 
what.  When  at  length  he  stood  on  the  ferry  slip- 
way, with  but  a  furlong  or  two  of  Avater  between 
him  and  home,  the  very  tranquillity  of  the  scene  irri- 
tated him  subtly — the  slow  strength  of  the  evening 
tide,  the  few  ships  idle  at  their  moorings,  the  familiar 
hush  of  the  town  resting  after  its  day's  business. 
He  tapped  his  foot  on  the  cobbles  as  though  this  fret- 
ful action  could  quicken  Uncle  Nicky  Vro,  who  came 
rowing  across  deliberately  as  ever,  working  his  boat 
down  the  farther  shore  and  then  allowing  the  tide  to 
slant  it  upstream  to  the  landing-place. 

"  Eh  ?  So  'tis  you  ?  "  was  Nicky's  greeting. 
"  Well,  and  I  hope  that  you've  enjoyed  your  holiday 
— not  that  I  know,  for  my  part,  what  a  holiday 


means." 


59 


SHIN^ING    FERRY 

"  It's  time  you  took  one,  then,"  Rosewarne  an- 
swered. 

The  old  man  eliuckled.  "  Pretty  things  would 
happen  if  I  did !  'Took  a  day  off,  one  time,  to  marry 
my  old  woman,  and  another  to  hury  her,  and  that's 
all  in  five-and-forty  year.  Not  a  day's  sickness  in 
all  that  time,  thank  the  Lord !  " 

Rosewarne  watched  the  old  fellow's  feeble  dig- 
ging stroke.  "  I  preach  capability,"  he  said  to  him- 
self, "  and  this  is  the  sort  of  thing  I  allow  !  "  His  gaze 
travelled  from  the  oar  to  the  oarsman.  "  You're 
getting  past  your  work,  all  the  same,"  he  said  aloud. 
"What  does  it  feel  like?" 

"Eh?" 

"  To  give  up  life  little  by  little.  Some  men 
run  till  they  drop — are  still  running  strong,  maybe, 
when  the  grave  opens  at  their  feet,  and  in  they  go. 
With  you  'tis  more  like  the  crumbling  of  rotten  tim- 
ber :  a  little  dribble  of  sawdust  day  by  day  to  show 
where  the  worms  are  boring.  What  does  it  feel 
like  ? " 

"  I  don't  feel  it  at  all,"  Nicky  answered  cheer- 
fully. "  Folks  tell  me  from  time  to  time  that  I'm 
getting  past.  My  own  opinion  is,  they're  in  a 
greater  hurry  to  get  to  market  than  of  yore.  '  Com- 
petition ' — that's  a  cry  sprung  up  since  my  young 
days :  it  used  to  be  '  Religion,'  and  '  Nicholas  Vro, 

60 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWARDSHIP 

be  joii  a  saved  man? '  The  ferry  must  ply,  week- 
day or  Sabbath:  I  put  it  to  you,  What  time  have  I 
got  to  be  a  saved  man  ?  The  Lord  is  good,  says  I. 
liow  I'll  tell  you  a  fancy  of  mine  about  Him. 
One  day  He'll  come  down  to  the  slip  calling  ^  Over !  ' 
and  whiles  I  put  Him  across — scores  of  times  I've 
a-seen  myself  doing  it,  and  'tis  always  in  the  cool  of 
the  evening  after  a  spell  of  summer  weather — He'll 
speak  up  like  a  gentleman,  and  ask,  '  Nicholas  Vro, 
how  long  have  you  been  a-working  this  here  boat? ' 
'  Lord,'  I'll  answer,  '  for  maybe  a  matter  of  fifty  year, 
calm  or  blow,  week-days  and  Sabbaths  alike ;  and 
that's  the  reason  your  Honour  has  missed  me  up  to 
church,  as  you  may  have  noticed.'  '  You  must  be 
middlin'  tired  of  it/  He'll  say :  and  I  shall  answer  up, 
'  Lord,  if  you  say  so,  I  don't  contradict  'ee ;  but  'tis 
no  bad  billet  for  a  man  given  to  chat  with  his  nay- 
bours  and  talk  over  the  latest  news  and  be  sociable, 
and  warning  to  leave  don't  come  from  me.'  '  You'd 
best  give  me  over  they  oars,  all  the  same,'  He'll  say ; 
and  with  that  I  shall  hand  'em  over  and  be  rowed 
across  to  a  better  world." 

Rosewarne  was  not  listening.  "  Surely,  man, 
the  tide's  slack  enough  by  this  time !  "  he  inter- 
rupted, his  irritation  again  overcoming  him.  "  You 
needn't  be  fetching  across  sideways,  like  a  crab." 

Nicky  rested  on  his  oars,  and  stared  at  him  for 

61 


SHINING    FERRY 

a  moment.  As  if  Rosewarne  or  any  man  alive  could 
teach  him  liow  to  pull  the  ferry!  He  disdained  to 
argue. 

"  Talking  about  news,"  said  he,  resuming  his 
stroke,  "  the  Virtuous  Lady  arrived  yesterday,  and 
began  to  unload  this  morning.  You  can  see  her 
top-m'sts  down  yonder,  over  the  town  quay." 

"Has  Mrs.  Purchase  been  ashore?"  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase was  Rosewarne's  only  sister,  who  had  married 
a  merchant  skipper  and  sailed  with  him  ever  since 
in  the  Virtuous  Lady,  in  which  she  held  a  prepon- 
derance of  the  shares. 

"  Came  ashore  this  very  afternoon  in  a  bonnet 
as  large  as  St.  Paul's,  with  two-thirds  of  a  great  hum- 
ming-bird a-top.  She's  balancing  up  the  freight  ac- 
counts at  this  moment  with  Peter  Benny.  Indeed, 
master,  you'll  find  a  plenty  of  folk  have  been  inquir- 
ing for  'ee.  There's  the  parson  for  one.  To  my 
knowledge  he've  been  down  three  times  to  ask  when 
you'd  be  back,  and  if  you'd  forgotten  the  School 
Managers'  meeting,  that's  fixed  for  to-morrow." 
Uncle  Nicky  brought  his  boat  at  length  to  shore. 
"  And  there's  Ann'  Butson  in  terror  that  you'll  be 
bringing  in  some  stranger  to  teach  the  children,  and 
at  her  door  half  the  day  listening  for  your  footstep, 
to  petition  'ee." 

Somehow  Rosewarne  had  promised  himself  that 

G2 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWAKDSHIP 

the  restlessness  would  leave  him  as  soon  as  lie  reached 
his  own  side  of  the  water.  He  stepped  ashore  and 
began  to  walk  up  the  slipway  at  a  brisk  pace;  and 
then  on  a  sudden  his  brain  harked  backward  to  Uncle 
Nicky's  talk^  to  which  a  minute  before  he  had  lis- 
tened so  inattentively.  In  his  hurry  he  had  let  an 
opportunity  pass.  The  old  man  had  talked  of  death ; 
had  been  on  the  point  of  saying  something  impor- 
tant, perhaps — for  all  that  concerned  death  and  men's 
views  of  death  had  become  important  now.  He 
halted  and  turned  irresolutely.  But  the  moment 
had  gone  by. 

"  Good-night !  "  he  called  back,  and  resumed  his 
way  up  the  village  street. 

Uncle  Nicky,  bending  to  replace  a  worn  thole- 
pin with  a  new  one,  dropped  the  pair  with  a  clatter. 
In  all  his  experience  Rosewarne  had  never  before 
flung  him  a  salutation. 

"  And  a  minute  ago  trying  to  tell  me  how  to  work 
the  ferry !  "  the  old  man  muttered,  staring  after  him. 
"  The  man  must  be  ailing." 

As  a  hunted  deer  puts  the  water  between  him 
and  the  hounds,  Rosewarne  had  hoped  to  shake  off 
his  worry  at  the  ferry-crossing.  But  no;  it  dogged 
him  yet  as  he  mounted  the  hill.  Only,  as  a  dreamer 
may  suffer  the  horror  of  nightmare,  yet  know  all  the 
while  that  it  is  a  dream,  he  felt  the  impatience  and 

63 


SHINING    FERRY 

knew  it  for  a  vain  thing.  All  bis  life  he  had  been 
liurryiiii;'  desperately,  and  all  his  life  the  true  mo- 
ments bad  oifcred  themselves  and  been  left  un- 
grasped. 

Before  the  doorway  of  a  cottage  halfway  np 
the  hill  an  old  woman  waited  to  intercept  him — 
Annt  Butson,  the  village  schoohnistress.  She  was 
a  spinster  well  over  sixty,  and  lodged  with  a  widow 
woman,  Sarah  Trevarthen,  to  whom  the  cottage 
belonged. 

Rosewarnc  frowned  at  the  sight  of  her.  She 
wore  her  best  cap  and  shawl,  and  her  cheeks  were 
flushed.  Behind  her  in  the  doorway  sat  a  young 
sailor,  with  a  cage  on  the  ground  beside  him  and  a 
parrot  perched  on  his  forefinger  close  against  his 
cheek.  He  glanced  up  with  a  shy,  very  good- 
natured  smile,  touched  his  forelock  to  Rosewarne, 
and  went  on  whispering  to  the  bird. 

Aunt  Butson  stepped  out  into  the  roadway. 
"  0  ood-evcning,  Mr.  Rosewarne,  and  glad  to  see  you 
back  and  in  health!  "  She  dro])ped  him  a  curtsey. 
'^  If  you've  a  minute  to  spare,  sir  " — 

Confound  the  woman ! — he  had  no  minutes  to 
spare.  Still  frowning,  he  looked  over  li(>r  li(>a<l  at 
the  young  sailor,  Sarah  Trevarthen's  boy  Tom,  home 
from  his  Baltic  voyage  in  the  Virtuous  Lady.  Yes, 
it  was  Tom  Trevarthen,  now  a  man  grown.     Rosc- 

64 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWARDSHIP 

warne  remembered  him  as  a  child  in  frocks,  tum- 
bling about  the  roadway;  as  an  urchin  straddling  a 
stick;  as  a  lad  home  (with  this  same  parrot)  from 
his  first  voyage.  Who,  in  a  world  moving  at  such 
a  pace,  could  have  a  minute  to  spare  ? 

Aunt  Butson  had  plunged  into  her  petition,  and 
was  voluble.  It  concerned  the  new  schools,  of 
course.  "  She  had  taught  reading,  writing,  and 
ciphering  for  close  on  forty  years.  All  the  children 
in  the  village,  and  nine-tenths  of  their  parents  for 
that  matter,  owed  their  education  to  her.  A  little 
she  could  do,  too,  in  navigation — as  Mr.  Rose  warne 
well  knew:  enough  to  prepare  a  lad  for  School- 
master Penrose  across  the  water.  Mr.  Penrose  would 
rather  teach  two  boys  from  her  school  than  one  from 
any  other  parish.  Surely — surely — the  new  Board 
wouldn't  take  the  bread  out  of  an  old  woman's 
mouth  and  drive  her  to  the  workhouse?  She  didn't 
believe,  as  some  did,  in  this  new-fangled  education, 
and  wouldn't  pretend  to.  Arithmetic  up  to  practice- 
sums  and  good  writing  and  spelling — anything  up 
to  five  syllables — were  education  enough  to  her  mind 
for  any  child  that  knew  his  station  in  life.  The 
rest  of  it  only  bred  Radicals.  Still,  let  her  have  a 
trial  at  least;  let  them  decide  to-morrow  to  give  her 
a  chance;  'twould  be  no  more  than  neighbourly. 
Her  ways   might   be   old-fashioned ;    but    she   could 

65 


SHINING   FERRY 

learn.  And  with  Mrs.  Trevarthen  to  keep  the 
grand  new  schoolroom  dusted — if  they  would  give 
her  the  job — and  look  after  the  fires  and  light- 
mg  '— 

Rosewarne  pretended  to  listen.  The  poor  soul 
was  inefficient,  and  he  knew  it :  beneath  all  her  flow  of 
speech  ran  an  undercurrent  of  wrath  against  the  new 
learning  and  all  its  works.  Poverty — sheer  terror 
of  a  dwindling  cupboard  and  the  workhouse  to  fol- 
low— drove  her  to  plead  with  that  which  she  hated 
worse  than  the  plague.  He  heard,  and  all  the  while 
his  mind  was  miles  away  from  her  petition ;  for  some 
chance  word  or  words  let  fall  by  her  had  seemed  for 
an  instant  to  offer  him  a  clue.  Somewhere  in  the  past 
these  words  had  made  part  of  a  phrase  or  sentence 
which,  could  he  but  find  it  again,  would  resolve  all 
this  brooding  trouble.  He  searched  his  memory — • 
in  vain;  the  words  drew  together  like  dancers  in  a 
figure,  and  then,  on  the  edge  of  combining,  fell  apart 
and  were  lost. 

Aloud  he  kept  saying,  "  You  mustn't  count  on  it. 
Some  provision  will  be  made  for  you,  no  doubt — in 
these  days  one  must  march  with  the  times."  This 
was  all  the  comfort  she  could  win  from  him,  and  the 
poor  old  creature  gazed  after  him  forlornly  when  at 
length  he  broke  from  her  and  went  his  way  up  the 
hill. 

66 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWARDSHIP 

He  reached  the  entrance-gate.  As  it  clashed 
behind  him,  two  children  at  play  in  the  garden  lifted 
their  heads.  The  girl  whispered  to  the  boy,  and  the 
pair  stole  away  out  of  sight.  Erom  the  porch  the 
small  greyhound  caught  sight  of  him,  and,  bounding 
to  him,  fawned  about  his  feet.  In  the  counting- 
house  he  found  his  sister  closeted  with  Mr.  Benny, 
and  a  pile  of  bills  on  the  table  between.  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase rose  and  greeted  him  with  a  little  pecking  kiss. 
She  was  a  cheerful  body,  by  some  five  or  six  years  his 
junior,  with  a  handsome,  weather-tanned  face,  eyes 
wrinkled  at  the  corners  like  a  seaman's,  and  two 
troubles  in  the  world — the  first  being  that  she  had 
borne  no  children.  She  shared  her  husband's  voyag- 
ing, kept  the  ship's  accounts,  was  known  to  all  on 
board  as  "  The  Bos'un,"  and  when  battened  under 
hatches  in  foul  weather  spent  her  time  in  trimming 
and  retrimming  the  most  wonderfvil  bonnets.  Her 
coquetry  stopped  short  at  bonnets.  To-day  indeed — 
the  weather  being  warm — in  lieu  of  bodice  she  had 
slipped  on  a  grey  alpaca  coat  of  her  husband's. 

"  Good-evening,  John  !  "  She  plunged  at  once 
into  a  narrative  of  the  passage  home — how  they  had 
picked  up  a  slant  off  Heligoland  and  carried  it  with 
them  well  past  the  Wight;  how  on  this  side  of  Port- 
land they  had  met  with  slight  and  baffling  head- 
winds, and  for  two  days  had  done  little  more  than 

67 


SHINING    FERRY 

drift  with  the  tides.  The  vessel  was  foul  with  weed, 
and  must  go  into  dock.  "  You  could  graze  a  cow 
on  her  for  a  fortniglit,"  Mrs.  Purchase  declared. 
"  Benny  and  I  have  just  finished  checking  the  bills. 
You'd  like  to  run  through  them  ?  " 

"  Let  be,"  said  Rosewarne.  "  I'll  cast  an  eye  over 
them  to-night  maybe."  He  stepped  to  the  bell-rope 
and  rang  for  his  jug  of  cider. 

Some  touch  of  fatigue  in  the  movement,  some 
slight  greyness  in  his  face,  caught  Mrs.  Purchase's 
sisterly  eye. 

"  It's  my  belief  you're  unwell,  John." 

"Weary,  my  dear  Hannah — weary;  that's  all." 
He  turned  to  the  little  clerk.  "  That  will  do  for 
to-night,  Benny.  You  can  leave  all  the  papers  as 
they  are,  just  putting  these  bills  together  in  a  heap. 
Is  that  the  correspondence  ?  Very  well ;  I'll  deal 
with  it." 

"  In  all  my  life  I  never  heard  you  own  to  feeling 
tired,"  persisted  Mrs.  Purchase,  as  Mr.  Benny  closed 
the  door  l)ehind  him.  "  You  may  take  my  word  for 
it,  you're  unwell ;  been  sleeping  in  some  damp  bed, 
belike." 

Rosewarne  moved  to  the  window  and  gazed  out 
across  the  garden.  Down  by  the  yew-hedge,  where 
a  narrow  path  of  turf  wound  in  and  out  among  beds 
of  tall   Madonna   lilies   and    Canterbury   bells,    the 

68 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWAEDSHIP 

two  children  were  playing  a  solemn  game  of  follow- 
luy-leader,  the  blind  boy  close  on  his  sister's  heels, 
she  turning  again  and  again  to  watch  that  he  came 
to  no  harm. 

"  I  wonder  if  that  boy  could  be  trained  and  made 
fit  for  something?  "  mused  Rosewarne  aloud. 

"Eh?  Is  it  Clem?"  She  had  followed,  and 
stood  now  by  his  elbow.  "  My  dear  man,  he  has  the 
brains  of  the  family !  Leave  Myra  to  teach  him  for 
a  while.  See  how  she's  teaching  him  now,  although 
she  doesn't  know  it;  and  that  goes  on  from  morning 
to  night." 

"  Where's  the  use  of  it?  What's  a  blind  man,  at 
the  best?" 

"  What  God  means  him  to  be.  If  God  means 
him  to  do  better — ay,  or  to  see  clearer — than  other 
men,  'tisn't  a  pair  of  darkened  eyes  will  prevent  it." 

"  Woman's  argument,  Hannah.  I  take  you  on 
your  own  ground — God  could  cure  the  child's  eyes ; 
but  God  doesn't,  you  see.  On  the  contrary,  God 
chose  to  blind  'em.  If  I'd  your  religion,  it  would 
teach  me  that  Clem's  misfortune  was  a  punishment 
designed — the  sins  of  the  fathers  " — 

"  Ay,  you're  a  hard  man,  like  your  father  and 
mine.  Haven't  I  cause  to  know  it?  Hadn't  she 
cause  to  know  it — the  mother  of  that  pretty  pair?  " 

"  She  made  her  bed." 

GO 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  — And  lies  in  it,  poor  soul.  But  I  tell  you, 
John,  there's  a  worse  blindness  than  Clem's,  and  you 
and  father  have  suffered  from  it.  I  mean  the  blind- 
ness of  thinking  you  know  God's  business  so  much 
better  than  God  that  you  take  it  out  of  His  hands. 
'  Punishment,'  you  say,  and  '  sins  of  the  fathers  '  ? 
I'd  have  you  beware  how  you  visit  the  past  on  poor 
Clem,  or  happen  you  may  find  some  day  that  out  of 
the  sins  of  his  fathers  you  have  chosen  your  own  to 
lay  on  him." 

Rosewarne  turned  on  her  with  a  harsh  glance  of 
suspicion.  No,  her  eyes  were  candid — she  had  spoken 
so  by  chance — she  did  not  guess. 

Had  he  been  l)lind  all  his  life?  It  was  certain 
that  now  at  the  last  his  eyes  saw  the  world  differ- 
ently, and  all  things  in  it.  Those  children,  yonder — 
a  hundred  times  from  this  window^  he  had  watched 
the'm  at  play  without  heeding.  To-night  they  moved 
against  the  dark  yew-hedge  like  figures  in  a  toy  thea- 
tre, withdrawn  within  a  shadowy  world  of  their  own, 
celebratiiig  a  ritual  in  wdiieh  he  had  no  concern. 
The  same  instant  revealed  their  beauty  and  removed 
them  beyond  his  reach.  Did  he  wish  to  make 
amends?  lie  could  not  tell,  lie  only  knew  it  was 
too  late.  The  world  was  slipping  away  from  him — 
these  children  with  it — dissolving  into  the  shadow 
that  climbed  about  him. 

70 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWAKDSHIP 

ISText  morning  lie  saddled  his  horse  and  rode. 
His  way  led  him  past  the  new  school-buildings;  and 
he  reined  up  for  a  minute,  while  his  eyes  dwelt  on 
them  with  a  certain  pride.  As  chairman  of  the  new 
School  Board  he  had  chosen  the  architect,  supervised 
the  plans,  and  seen  to  it  that  the  contractor  used 
none  but  the  best  material.  The  school  would  com- 
pare with  any  in  the  Duchy,  and  should  have  a 
teacher  worthy  of  it — one  to  open  the  children's  eyes 
and  proclaim  and  inculcate  the  doctrine  of  progTess. 
John  Rosewarne  was  a  patriot  in  his  unemotional 
way.  He  hated  the  drift  of  the  rural  population 
into  the  towns,  foreseeing  that  it  sapped  the  strength 
of  England.  He  despised  it  too ;  his  own  experience 
telling  him  that  a  countryman  might  amass  wealth 
if  he  had  brains  and  used  them.  As  for  the  brain- 
less herd,  they  should  be  kept  on  the  land  at  all  cost, 
to  grow  strong,  breed  strong  children,  and,  when  the 
inevitable  hour  came,  be  used  as  fighters  to  defend 
England's  wealth. 

He  rode  on  pondering,  past  uplands  where  the 
larks  sang  and  the  mowers  whetted  their  scythes; 
down  between  honeysuckle-hedges  to  a  small  village 
glassing  itself  in  the  head  waters  of  a  creek,  asleep, 
since  all  its  grown  inhabitants  had  climbed  the  hill 
to  toil  in  tlio  li:iy-li:ii'vest,  niid  silent  but  for  a  few 
clucking  fowls  and  a  murmur  of  voices  within  the 

71 


SHINING    FERRY 

infants'  school;  thence  across  a  bridge,  and  up  and 
along  a  winding  valley  to  the  park  gates  at  Dame- 
lioc.     Beyond  these  the  valley  narrowed  to  a  sylvan 
gorge,  and  the  speckless  carriage-road  mounted  under 
forest  trees  alongside  a  river  tumbling  in  miniature 
cascades,  swirling  under  mossy  foot-bridges,  here  and 
there  artfully  delayed  to  form  a  trout-pool,  or  as  art- 
fully veiled  by  thickets  of  trailing  wild  roses  and 
Traveller's  Joy.     For  a  mile  and  more  he  rode  up- 
ward under  soft  green  shadows,  then  lifted  his  eyes 
to   wide   daylight  as   the   coombe   opened   suddenly 
upon  a  noble  home-park,  smooth  as  a  lawn,  rising 
in  waves  among  the  folds   of  the  hills   to   a   high 
plateau  whence  Damelioc  House  looked  seaward — a 
house  of  wide  prospect  and  in  aspect  stately,  classi- 
cal in  plan,  magnificently  filling  the  eye  with  its  bold 
straight   linos   and    ample  symmetries   prolonged   in 
terraces  and  rows  of  statues  interset  with  pointed 
yews. 

The  mistress  of  this  palace  gave  him  audience 
as  usual  in  her  bhie-and-white  morning-room,  from 
the  ceiling  of  which,  from  the  centre  of  a  painting, 
"The  Nuptials  of  Venus  and  Vulcan,"  her  own 
youthful  face  smiled  down,  her  husband  having  for 
a  whim  instructed  the  painter  to  depict  the  goddess 
in  her  likeness.  It  smiled  down  now  on  a  little 
shrunken  lady  huddled  deep  in  an  easy-chair.     Only 

72 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWARDSHIP 

her  dark  eyes  kept  some  of  their  old  expressiveness, 
and  her  voice  an  echo  of  its  old  full  tone. 

She  asked  Rosewarne  a  polite  question  or  two 
concerning  his  holiday,  and  they  fell  at  once  to  or- 
dinary talk — of  repairs,  rents,  game,  and  live-stock 
generally,  the  hiring  of  a  couple  of  under-keepers, 
the  likeliest  tenant  for  a  park-lodge  which  had  fallen 
empty;  of  investments  too,  and  the  money  market, 
since  Rosewarne  was  her  man  of  business  as  well  as 
steward. 

Lady  Killiow  trusted  him  absolutely;  but  only 
because  she  had  long  since  proved  him.  He  on  his 
part  yielded  her  the  deepest  respect,  both  for  her 
sagacity  in  business  and  for  the  fine  self-command 
with  which  she,  an  actress  of  obscure  birth,  had  put 
the  stage  behind  her,  assumed  her  rank,  and  borne  it 
through  all  these  years  with  something  more  than 
adequacy.  John  Rosewarne,  like  a  true  Briton, 
venerated  rank,  and  had  a  Briton's  instinct  for  the 
behaviour  proper  to  rank.  About  his  mistress  there 
could  be  no  question.  She  was  a  great  lady  to  the 
last  drop  of  her  blood. 

His  devotion  to  her  had  a  touch  of  high  chivalry. 
It  came  of  long  service;  of  ])ity  for  her  early 
widowhood,  for  her  childlessness,  for  the  fate  ordain- 
ing that  all  these  great  ix)ssessions  must  be  inherited 
by  strangers;   but  most  of  all  it  was  coloured  by  a 

73 


SHINING   FERRY 

memory  of  which  he  had  never  dared,  and  would 
never  dare,  to  speak. 

He  had  seen  her  on  the  stage.  Once,  in  his  wild 
days,  and  not  long  before  he  enlisted,  he  had  spent 
a  week  in  Plymonth,  where  she  was  acting,  the  one 
star  in  a  touring  company.  Night  after  night  she 
had  laid  a  spell  on  him;  it  was  not  Rosalind,  not 
Imogen,  not  Mrs.  Haller,  not  Lady  Teazle,  that  he 
watched  from  the  pit ;  but  one  divine  woman  passing 
from  avatar  to  avatar.  So,  when  the  last  night  re- 
vealed her  as  Lady  Macbeth,  as  little  could  he  con- 
demn her  of  guilt  as  understand  her  remorse.  He 
saw  her  suffering  because  for  so  splendid  a  creature 
nothing  less  could  be  decreed  by  the  jealous  gods. 
It  tortured  him ;  and  when  the  officer  announced 
her  death,  for  the  moment  he  could  believe  no  less. 
"  The  queen,  my  lord,  is  dead."  "  She  should  have 
died  hereafter."  How  well  he  remembered  the 
words  and  Macbeth's  reply — those  two  strokes  upon 
the  heart,  strokes  of  a  muffled  bell  following  the  out- 
cry of  women. 

He  was  no  reader  of  poetry.  He  had  bought 
the  book  afterwards,  and  flung  it  away;  it  tangled 
him  in  words,  but  showed  him  nothing  of  the  woman 
he  sought. 

Yet  to-day,  as  he  stood  before  Lady  Killiow  dis- 
cussing the  petty  question  of  a  lease,  the  scene  and 

T4 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWAEDSHIP 

words  flashed  upon  him  together,  and  he  grasped  the 
clue  for  which  his  brain  had  been  searching  yester- 
day while  he  listened  to  old  Mrs.  Butson.  It  was 
Lady  Ivilliow  who  called  the  lease  a  "  petty  "  one, 
and  that  word  unlocked  his  memory.  "  This  petty 
pace — 

"  To-morrow,  and  to-morrow,  and  to-morrow, 
Creeps  in  this  petty  pace  from  day  to  day, 
To  the  last  syllable  of  recorded  time — 
And  all  our  yestei-days  have  lighted  fools 
The  way  to  dusty  death. ' ' 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Lady  Killiow,  lifting 
her  eyes  to  him  in  some  astonishment — for  he  had 
muttered  a  word  or  two — and  meeting  his  fixed 
stare.     "  You  are  not  attending,  I  believe." 

"  Excuse  me,  my  lady.  It  is  true  that  I  have  not 
been  well  of  late — and  that  reminds  me:  in  case  of 
illness,  my  son  will  post  down  from  Plymouth.  He 
holds  himself  ready  at  call.  If  I  may  say  it,  you 
will  find  him  less  of  a  fool  than  he  looks." 

Lady  Killiow  put  up  her  hands  with  a  little 
laugh,  half  comfortable,  half  wistful.  "  My  good 
Mr.  Rosewarnc,  I  am  a  very  old  woman !  In  a 
short  while  you  may  do  as  you  like ;  but  until  I  am 
gone,  please  understand  that  you  cannot  possibly 
fall  ill." 

He  bowed  with  a  grave  smile.     Of  his  mistress's 

75 


SHINING    FERRY 

grateful   affection   lie   took    away    these    liglit    words 
only:  but  they  were  enough. 

He  had  thought  by  this  visit  to  Danielioc  to  lay  his 
demon  of  restlessness;  had  supposed  this  monthly  ac- 
count of  his  stewardship,  punctually  rendered,  to  be 
the  business  weighing  on  his  mind.  But  no:  as  he 
passed  out  througli  the  park  gates,  the  imp  perched  it- 
self again  behind  his  crupper,  urging  him  forward, 
tormenting  him  with  the  same  vague  sense  of  duty 
neglected  and  clamorous. 

Towards  evening  it  grew  so  nearly  intolerable  that 
he  had  mucli  ado  to  sit  patiently  and  preside  at  the 
School  Board  meeting,  convened,  as  usual,  in  the  great 
parlour  at  Hall.  All  the  Board  was  there:  the  Clerk, 
Mr.  Benny,  and  the  six  Managers ;  two  Churchmen, 
three  Dissenters,  and  liinisolf — a  Gallio  with  a  cast- 
ing vote.  He  was  used  to  reflecting  cynically  that 
these  opponents  trusted  him  precisely  because  he 
cared  less  than  a  tinker's  curse  for  their  creeds,  and 
reconciled  all  religious  differences  in  a  broad,  im- 
partial contempt.  But  to-night,  as  Parson  Endicott 
approached  the  crucial  difficulty — the  choice  of  a  new 
teacher — with  all  the  wariness  of  a  practised  commit- 
tee-man, laying  his  innocent  parallels  and  bringing  up 
his  guns  under  cover  of  a  pleasant  disavowal  to  which 
the  three  Dissenters  responded  with  "  Hear,  hear !  " 

76 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWAEDSHIP 

John  Rosewarne  listened  not  at  all,  nor  to  the  fence  of 
debate  that  followed  as  Church  and  Dissent  grew 
heated  and  their  friction  struck  out  the  familiar 
sparks — "  sectarian,"  "  undoctrinal,"  "  arrogance," 
"  broad-mindedness."  At  length  came  the  equally 
familiar  pause,  when  the  exhausted  combatants  turned 
bj  consent  and  waited  on  their  chairman.  He  sat 
tapping  his  fingers  upon  the  polished  mahogany, 
watching  the  reflected  candle-lights  along  its  surface, 
wondering  when  these  fretful  voices  would  cease,  these 
warring  atoms  release  him  to  obey  the  summons  of 
his  soul — still  incomprehensible,  still  urgent. 

Their  sudden  hush  recalled  him  with  a  start.  He 
had  heard  nothing  of  their  debate.  Slowly  he  lifted 
his  eyes  and  let  them  rest  upon  Mr.  Benny,  who  sat 
on  his  right,  patiently  waiting  to  take  down  the  next 
entry  for  the  minutes. 

"  If  you  will  trust  me,"  he  said,  "  I  can  find 
you  a  teacher — a  woman — whom  you  will  all  ac- 
cept." 

He  had  spoken  without  premeditation,  and  paused 
now,  doubtful  of  the  sound  of  his  own  voice.  The 
five  Managers  were  looking  at  him  with  respectful 
attention.  Apparently,  then,  he  was  speaking  sense ; 
and  he  spoke  on,  still  wondering  by  what  will  (not  his 
own)  the  words  came. 

"  If  you  leave  her  and  the  children  alone,  I  think 

77 


SHINING   FEREY 

her  religion  will  not  trouble  you.  She  is  accustomed 
to  boys,  and  teaches  them  to  l)e  honourable  to  one 
another  and  gentle  to  their  sisters." 

He  paused  again  and  drummed  with  his  fingers 
on  the  table.  He  heard  the  voices  break  out  again,  and 
gathered  that  the  majority  assented.  Mechanically 
he  put  the  resolution,  declared  it  carried,  and  closed 
the  meeting ;  as  mechanically  he  shook  hands  with  all 
the  Managers  and  wished  them  good-night.  "  And  on 
your  way,  Benny,  you  may  tell  the  maids  they  may 
go  to  bed.    I'll  blow  out  the  candles  myself." 

When  all  had  taken  their  leave  he  sat  for  a  while, 
still  staring  at  the  reflected  lights  along  the  board. 
Then  he  arose  and  passed  into  his  counting-house, 
where  an  oil  lamp  burned  upon  his  writing-table. 

He  took  pen  and  paper  and  wrote,  addressed  the 
letter,  sealed  it  carefully,  and  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  studying  the  address. 

''  There  is  to-morrow,"  he  muttered.  "  I  can  re- 
consider it  before  post-time  to-morrow." 

But  the  restlessness  had  vanished  and  left  in  its 
stead  a  deep  peace.  If  Death  waited  for  him  in 
the  next  room,  he  felt  that  he  could  go  quietly  now 
and  take  it  by  the  hand.  He  rememtered  the  can- 
dles still  burning  there,  and  stood  up  with  a  slight 
shiver — a  characteristic  shake  of  his  broad  shoulders. 
As  he  did  so  his  eyes  fell  again  upon  the  addressed 

78 


THE    CLOSE    OF    A    STEWxVRDSHIP 

letter.  He  turned  them  slowly  to  the  door — and  there, 
between  him  and  the  lights  on  the  long  table,  a  vision 
moved  towards  him — the  figure  of  a  girl  dressed  all 
in  black.  His  hand  went  up  to  the  phial  in  his  breast- 
pocket, but  paused  half-way  as  he  gazed  into  the  face 
and  met  her  eyes.    .    .    . 


79 


CHAPTER   VI 


THE   KAFTEBS 


Two  children  came  stealing  downstairs  in  the 
early  dawn,  carrying  their  hoots  in  their  hands,  whis- 
pering, lifting  their  faces  as  if  listening  for  some 
sound  to  come  from  the  upper  floors.  But  the  whole 
house  kept  silence. 

Their  plan  was  to  escape  by  one  of  the  windows 
on  the  ground  floor.  Tiptoeing  along  the  hall  to  the 
door  of  the  great  parlour,  Myra  noiselessly  lifted  the 
latch  (all  the  doors  in  the  house  had  old-fashioned 
latches)  and  peeped  in.  The  candles  on  the  long 
table  had  burned  themselves  out^  and  the  shuttered 
room  lay  in  darkness  save  for  one  long  glint  of  light 
along  the  mahogany  table-top.  It  came  from  the  half- 
open  doorway  in  the  far  corner,  beyond  which,  in  the 
counting-house,  a  ghost  of  a  flame  yet  trembled  in 
Rosewarne's  lamp. 

Myra  caught  at  Clem's  arm  and  drew  him  back 
into  the  hall.  For  the  moment  terror  overcame  her 
— terror  of  something  sinister  within — of  their  grand- 

80 


THE    EAFTERS 

father  sitting  there  like  Giant  Pope  in  the  story,  wait- 
ing to  catch  them.  She  hurried  Clem  along  to  the 
kitchen-passage,  which  opened  out  of  the  hall  at  right 
angles  to  the  front  door  and  close  beside  it.  The 
front  door  had  a  fanlight  through  which  fell  one 
broken  sunray,  filtered  to  a  pale  green  by  the  honey- 
suckle of  the  porch ;  and  reaching  it,  she  caught  her 
breath  in  a  new  alarm.     The  bolts  were  drawn. 

After  a  furtive  glance  behind  her,  she  peered  more 
closely,  holding  Clem  fast  by  the  sleeve.  Yes,  cer- 
tainly the  bolts  were  drawn,  and  the  key  had  not  been 
turned  in  the  lock.  Very  cautiously  she  tried  the 
heavy  latch.  The  door  opened  easily — though  with 
a  creak  that  fetched  her  heart  into  her  mouth. 

But  there  was  no  going  back.  Whatever  might 
be  the  explanation  of  tlie  unbolted  door,  they  were 
free  now,  at  large  in  the  dewy  morning  with  the  world 
at  their  feet.  The  brightness  of  it  dazzled  Myra.  It 
broke  on  Clem's  ears  with  the  dinning  of  innumer- 
able birds. 

They  took  hands  and  hurried  down  the  gravel 
path.  Did  ever  Madonna  lilies,  did  ever  clove  car- 
nations smell  as  did  these,  lifting  their  heads  from 
their  morning  bath  ?  Yet  field  challenged  garden 
with  the  fracrance  of  new-mown  hay  wafted  down 
through  the  elms  from  Parc-an-hal,  that  great  meadow. 

On  the  low  wall  by  the  garden  gate  Myra  found 

81 


SHINING    FERRY 

a  seat  for  Clem,  helped  him  to  lace  his  boots,  and 
then  pvit  on  her  own. 

"  What's  the  time  ?  "  Clem  demanded. 

"  I  don't  know,  but  he'll  be  coming  soon.  It  can't 
be  four  o'clock  yet,  or  we  should  hear  Jim  Trcgay 
knocking  about  the  milk-pails." 

The  boy  sat  silent,  nursing  his  knee,  drinking  in 
a  thousand  scents  and  sounds.  Myra  watched  the 
great  humble-bees  staggering  from  flower  to  flower, 
blundering  among  their  dew-filled  cups.  She  drew 
down  a  lily-stem  gently,  and  guided  her  brother's  hand 
so  that  it  held  one  heady  fellow  imprisoned,  buzzing 
under  his  palm  and  tickling  it.     Clem  laughed  aloud. 

"  Listen !  " 

A  lad  came  whistling  up  the  road  from  the  vil- 
lage. It  was  Tom  Trevarthen,  and  the  sunshine 
glinted  on  his  silver  earrings. 

"  Good-morning,  missy  !  Good-morning,  Master 
Clem !  I'm  good  as  my  word,  you  see ;  though  be 
sure*  I  never  reckoned  to  find  'ee  up  and  out  at  this 
hour." 

"  Myra  woke  me,"  said  Clem.  "  I  believe  she 
keeps  a  clock  in  lier  head." 

"  When  I  want  to  wake  up  at  any  particular  hour, 
I  just  do  it,"  Myra  announced  calmly.  "  Have  they 
begun  the  rafting?" 

"  Bless  your  life,  they've  been  working  all  ni^ht. 

82 


THE    EAFTERS 

There's  one  raft  finished,  and  the  other  ought  to  be 
ready  in  a  couple  or  three  hours,  to  save  the  tide 
across  the  bay." 

"  I  don't  hear  them  singing." 

"'Tisn't  allowed.  The  Bo — your  Aunt  Han- 
nah, I  mean — says  she  don't  mind  what  happens  to 
sea,  but  she  won't  have  her  nights  in  harbour  dis- 
turbed. Old  Billy  Daddo  hadn't  laid  hands  on  the 
first  balk  before  he  began  to  pipe,  '  O  f or  a  thousand 
tongues  to  sing,'  starting  on  the  very  first  hymn  in 
the  collection  like  as  if  he  meant  to  sing  right  through 
it.  lie  hadn't  got  to  '  music  in  the  sinner's  ears ' 
before  the  old  woman  pushed  her  face  overside  by 
the  starboard  cathead,  nightcap  and  all — in  that  time 
she  must  ha'  nipped  out  of  her  berth,  up  the  com- 
panion, and  along  the  length  of  the  deck — and  says 
she,  '  I  ben't  no  sinner,  William  Daddo,  but  a  staid 
woman  that  likes  her  sleep  and  means  to  have  it.' 
'  Why,  missus,'  says  Billy,  '  you'll  surely  lev'  a  man 
ask  a  blessing  on  his  labours !  '  '  Ask  quiet  then,'  she 
says,  '  or  you'll  get  slops.'  Since  then  they  be  all  as 
mute  as  mice." 

Myra  took  Clem's  hand,  and  the  three  hurried 
down  the  hill  and  through  the  sleeping  village  to  the 
ferry-slip,  where  Tom  had  a  ship's  boat  ready.  In 
fifty  strokes  he  brought  licr  alongside  the  barque 
where   the    rafters — twenty-five   or   thirty — were    at 

S3 


SHINING    FEERY 

work,  busy  as  flies.  The  Virtuous  Lady  had  been 
towed  up  overnight  from  her  first  anchorage  to  a 
berth  under  Hall  gardens,  and  a  hatch  opened  in  her 
bows,  through  which  the  long  balks  of  timber  were 
thrust  by  the  stevedores  at  work  in  the  hold  and  re- 
ceived by  a  gang  outside,  who  floated  them  off  to  be 
laid  raftwise  and  lashed  together  with  chains.  The 
sun,  already  working,  around  to  the  south,  gilded  the 
barque's  top-gallant  masts  and  yards,  and  flung  a 
stream  of  gold  along  the  raft  already  finished  and 
moored  in  midstream.  But  the  great  hull  lay  as  yet 
in  the  cool  shadow  of  the  hillside  over  which  the 
larks  sang. 

Tom  Trevarthen  found  the  children  a  corner  on 
the  half-finished  raft,  out  of  the  way  of  the  workmen, 
and  a  spare  tarpaulin  to  keep  their  clothes  dry ;  and 
there  they  sat  happily,  the  boy  listening  and  Myra  ex- 
plaining, until  Mrs.  Purchase,  having  slept  her  sleep 
and  dressed  herself  (partly),  emerged  on  deck  with 
a  teapot  to  fill  at  the  cook's  galley,  and,  looking  over 
the  bulwarks,  caught  sight  of  them. 

"  Hullo !  You  don't  tell  me  that  Susannah  " — 
this  was  the  housekeeper  at  Hall—"  allows  you 
abroad  at  this  hour!  " 

Now  tlic  risk  of  Susannah's  discovering  their  es- 
cape and  pursuing  was  the  one  bitter  drop  in  the  cup 
of  these  truants'   happiness.     Susannah — a  middle- 

84 


THE    EAFTEES 

aged,  ill-favoured  spinster,  daughter  of  a  yeoman- 
farmer,  with  whose  second  wife  she  could  not  agree — 
scorned  the  sea  and  all  sailors.  Once,  as  a  girl,  she 
had  committed  her  ample  person  to  a  sailing  boat, 
and,  thank  God !  that  one  lesson  had  been  enough. 
Ships  came  and  went  under  the  windows  of  Hall,  but 
in  the  children's  eyes  they  and  their  crews  belonged 
to  an  unknown  world.  Things  real  to  them  were  the 
farm  and  farm  stock,  harvests  and  harvest-homes,  the 
waggoners'  teams,  byres,  orchards,  garden,  and  cool 
dairy.  Ships'  captains  arrived  out  of  fairyland  some- 
times, and  crossed  the  straw-littered  townplace  to  hold 
audience  with  their  grandfather;  magic  odours  of 
hemp  and  pitch,  magic  chanty  songs  and  clanking  of 
windlasses  called  to  them  up  the  hill;  but  until  this 
morning  they  had  never  dared  to  obey  the  call.  Had 
Clem  been  as  other  boys —  But,  being  blind,  he 
trusted  to  Myra,  and  Myra  was  a  girl. 

"  Come  aboard  and  have  a  drink  of  something 
cordial !  "  continued  Mrs.  Purchase,  holding  the  tea- 
pot aloft.  She  walked  forward  and  looked  down 
on  the  workers.  "  Now  you  may  sing,  boys,  if  't 
pleases  'ee." 

"  Thank  'ee,  ma'am,"  answered  up  Billy  Daddo ; 
"  then  lev'  us  make  a  start  with  Wrestling  Jacob, 
Part  Two.— 

'  Lame  as  I  am,  I  take  the  prey  ' — 
85 


SHINING   FERRY 

'tis    a    pleasant    old   tune    and    never   comes   amiss, 
but   for  choice  o'   seasons  give   me  the  dew  o'   the 


mornin'." 


He  pitched  the  note  in  high  falsetto,  and  after  a 
couple  of  Lars  five  or  six  near  comrades  joined  in 

together — 

"  Speak  to  me  now,  for  I  am  weak, 
But  confident  in  self-despair  : 
Speak  to  my  lieart,  in  blessings  speak  ; 
Be  conquer'd  by  my  instant  prayer  ! 
Speak,  or  thou  never  hence  shall  move, 
And  tell  me  if  thy  name  is  Love. " 

Billy  Daddo's  gang  hailed  from  a  parish,  three 
miles  up  the  coast,  noted  for  containing  '*  but  one  man 
that  couldn't  preach,  and  that  was  the  parson."  Their 
fellow-labourers — the  crew  of  the  barque  and  half-a- 
score  longshoremen  belonging  to  the  port — heard  with- 
out thought  of  deriding.  Though  themselves  uncon- 
verted— for  life  in  a  town,  especially  in  a  seaport 
town,  makes  men  curious  and  critical  rather  than 
intense,  and  life  in  a  ship  ruled  by  Mrs.  Purchase  did 
not  encourage  visionaries — they  were  accustomed  to 
the  fervours  of  the  redeemed. 

"  'Tis  Love  1   'tis  Love  !  thou  diedst  for  me  : 
I  hear  thy  whisper  in  my  heart —  ! " 

"Brayvo!  'tis  workin' !  'tis  workin' !  Give  it 
tongue,  brother  Langman  !  "  cried  Billy,  as  a  steve- 

8G 


THE   KAFTERS 

dore  within  the  hold  broke  forth  into  a  stentorian  bass 
that  made  the  ship  rumble — 

*'  The  morning  breaks,  the  shadows  flee, 
Pure  universal  Love  thou  art : 
To  me,  to  me  thy  bowels  move. 
Thy  nature  and  thy  name  is  Love  1 ' ' 

Meanwhile  young  Tom  Trevarthen  had  brought 
the  children  under  the  vessel's  side,  and  was  helping 
Clem  up  the  ladder.  Mrs.  Purchase  greeted  them 
with  a  kiss  apiece,  and  carried  them  off  to  the  cabin, 
where  they  found  Mr.  Purchase  eating  bread  and 
cream. 

Skipper  Purchase,  a  smart  seaman  in  his  day  and 
a  first-class  navigator,  had  for  a  year  or  two  been  grad- 
ually weakening  in  the  head ;  a  decline  which  his 
wife  noted,  though  she  kept  her  anxiety  to  herself. 
She  foresaw  with  a  pang  the  end  of  their  voyaging, 
and  watched  him  narrowly,  having  made  a  compact 
with  herself  to  interfere  before  he  imperilled  the 
Virtuous  Lady.  Hitherto,  however,  his  wits  had  un- 
failingly cleared  to  meet  an  emergency.  While  she 
could  count  upon  this,  she  knew  herself  competent  to 
rule  the  ship  in  all  ordinary  weather. 

"  Help  yourselves  to  cream,"  said  Islv.  Purchase, 
after  giving  tliem  good-morning.  "  Clever  men  tell 
me  there's  more  nourishment  in  a  pound  o'  cream 
than  in  an  ox.     Now  that  may  seem  marvellous  in 

87 


SHINING   FERRY 

your  eyes  ? "  He  paused  with  a  wavering,  absent- 
iiiindod  smile.  "  'Tis  the  most  nourishing  food  in 
the  animal,  vegetable,  or  mineral  kingdoms,  unless 
you  count  parsnips." 

"  T'cht !  "  his  wife  put  in  briskly,  banging  down 
a  coui)le  of  clean  teacups  on  tlie  swing-table.  "  Chil- 
dren don't  want  a  passel  o'  science  in  their  insides. 
Milk  or  weak  tea,  my  dears  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  the  skipper  went  on  after  another 
long  pause,  bringing  his  uncertain  eyes  to  bear  on 
Clem,  "  if  you've  ever  taken  note  what  astonishing 
things  folks  used  to  eat  in  the  Bible.  There's  locusts, 
and  wild  honey,  and  unleavened  bread — I  made  out  a 
list  of  oddnionts  one  time.  Nebbycannezzar  don't 
count,  of  course ;  but  Ezekiel  took  down  a  whole  book 
in  the  shape  of  a  roll." 

Mrs.  Purchase  signed  to  Myra  to  pay  no  heed, 
and  engaged  Clem  in  a  sort  of  quick-firing  catechism 
on  the  cabin  fittings,  their  positions  and  uses.  The 
boy,  who  had  been  on  board  but  once  in  his  life  be- 
fore, stretched  out  a  hand  and  touched  each  article 
as  she  named  it. 

"  The  lamp,  now  ?  " 

Clem  readied  up  at  once  and  laid  his  fingers  on 
it,  gently  as  a  butterfly  alights  on  a  flower. 

"  How  does  it  swing?  " 

"  On  gimbals." 

88 


THE    RAFTEKS 

"  Eh  ?  and  what  may  gimbals  be  ?  " 

"  There's  a  ring  fastened  here  " — the  boy's  fin- 
gers found  it — "  and  swinging  to  and  fro  ;  and  inside 
the  ring  is  a  bar,  holding  the  lamp  so  that  it  tips  to 
and  fro  crossways  to  the  ring.  You  weight  the  bot- 
tom of  the  lamp,  and  then  it  keeps  plumb  upright 
however  the  ship  moves." 

"  Wunnerful  memory  you've  got,  to  be  sure — and 
your  gran'f  ather  tells  me  you  can't  even  read !  " 

"  But  he  knows  his  letters,"  Myra  announced 
proudly ;  "  and  when  the  new  teacher  comes  he's  to 
go  to  school  with  me.     Susannah  says  so." 

"  How  in  the  world  did  you  teach  'n  his  letters, 
child  ?  " 

"  I  cut  them  on  the  match-boarding  inside  the 
summer-house,  and  he  traces  them  out  with  his  fingers. 
If  you  go  up  you  can  see  for  yourself — the  whole 
lot  from  A  to  Ampassy !  He  never  makes  a  mistake 
— do  you,  Clem  ?  And  I've  begun  to  cut  out  '  Our 
Father,'  but  it's  slow  work." 

"  Did  ever  you  hear  tell !  "  Mrs.  Purchase  turned 
to  her  husband,  who  had  come  out  of  his  reverie  and 
sat  regarding  Clem  with  something  like  lively  inter- 
est. He  had,  in  fact,  opened  his  mouth  to  utter  a 
scriptural  quotation,  but,  cliocked  on  the  verge  of  it, 
dropped  back  into  pensiveness. 

At  this  point  Mrs.  Purchase's  practised  ear  told 

89 


SHINING   FERRY 

her  that  the  stevedores  were  ceasing  work,  and  she 
bustled  np  the  ladder  to  summon  her  crew  to  swab 
decks.  The  old  man,  left  alone  with  the  children, 
leaned  forward,  jerked  a  thumb  after  her,  and  said 
impressively,  "  I  named  her  myself." 

"  Who  ?  Aunt  Hannah  ?  "  stammered  Myra, 
taken  aback. 

"  No,  the  ship.  I  named  her  after  your  aunt. 
'  Who  can  find  a  virtuous  woman  ? '  says  Solomon.  '  1 
can,'  says  I ;  and,  what's  more,  I  done  it :  only  I 
changed  the  word  to  lady,  as  more  becoming  to  one 
of  her  haveage.  Proverbs  thirty-one,  fourteen — turn 
it  up  when  you  get  home,  and  you'll  find  these  words : 
'  She  is  like  the  merchant  ships,  she  bringeth  her  food 
from  afar.'  " 

"  Uncle,"  put  in  Myra  breathlessly,  "  I  want  you 
to  listen  for  a  moment.  Clem  and  I  have  run  away 
this  morning,  and  by  this  time  Susannah  will  have 
found  it  out  and  be  searching.  If  she  sends  down 
here,  couldn't  you  hide  us — just  for  a  little  while  ? 
The — the  fact  is,  we've  set  our  hearts  on  going  with 
the  rafts.  There's  no  danger  in  this  weather,  and 
Tom  Trevarthen  has  promised  to  look  after  us.  I 
don't  dare  to  ask  Aunt  Hannah  ;  but  if  you  could  have 
a  boat  ready  just  when  the  rafts  are  starting,  and  hide 
us  somewhere  till  then  " — 

Mr.  Purchase  did  not  seem  to  hear,  but  rose  and 

90 


THE    KAFTEES 

opened  a  small  Dutch  corner-cupboard,  inlaid  with 
parrots  and  tulips,  and  darkly  varnished.  From  it 
he  took  a  large  Bible. 

"  I'll  show  you  the  text  I  was  speaking  of." 

''  But,  uncle  "— 

"  They'm  washing-down  already,"  said  he,  lift- 
ing his  head  to  the  sound  of  rushing  water  on  deck. 
"  Your  aunt  will  be  back  in  a  moment,  and  'tis  time 
for  prayers." 

Sure  enough,  at  that  instant  the  feet  and  ankles 
of  Mrs.  Purchase  appeared  on  the  ladder.  "  Tide's  on 
the  turn,"  she  announced.  "  Keep  your  seats,  my 
dears ;  the  Lord  knows  there's  no  room  to  kneel,  and 
He  makes  allowance."  She  set  a  small  packed  basket 
on  the  table,  and  turned  to  her  husband.  "  You'll 
have  to  pray  short,  too,  if  the  children  are  going 
with  the  rafts." 

"  Going  ?— Oh,  Aunt  Hannah  !  " 

"  Why,  I'd  a  notion  you  wanted  to.  To  be  sure, 
if  I'm  wrong,  I'm  wrong,  and  'tisn'  the  first  time; 
but  young  Tom  Trevarthen  didn'  seem  to  reckon 
so.  There,  get  your  prayers  over  and  cut  along; 
I'll  make  it  all  right  with  your  grandfather  and 
Susannah." 

Ah,  but  it  was  bliss,  and  blissful  to  remember! 
The  rafts  dropped  down  past  the  town  quay,  past 

91 


SHINING   FERRY 

the  old  block-houses,  ])iist  tlie  ivied  fort  at  the  har- 
bour's mouth,  and  out  to  the  open  sea  that  twinkled 
for  leagues  under  the  faint  northerly  breeze,  dazzling 
Myra's  eyes.  Tom  Trevarthen  grinned  as  he  tugged 
at  an  enormous  sweep  with  two  other  men,  Metho- 
dists both,  and  sang  with  them  and  with  Billy  Dad- 
do,  who  steered  with  another  sweep,  rigged  aft  upon 
a  crutch — 

"  Praise  ye  the  Lord  !  'tis  good  to  raise 
Your  hearts  and  voices  in  His  praise  " — 


(I 


Now  what  should  put  it  in  my  noddle  to  take 
up  with  that  old  hemn  ?  "  asked  Billy  aloud,  coming 
to  a  halt  at  the  close  of  the  first  verse  and  scratching 
his  head.  "  'Tidn'  one  of  my  first  fav'rites — noth- 
ing in  it  about  the  Blood  o'  the  Lamb — an'  I  can't 
call  to  mind  havin'  pitched  it  for  years.  Well,  never 
mind !  The  Lord  hev  done  it  with  some  purpose,  you 
may  be  sure." 

"  I  call  it  a  very  pretty  hymn,"  said  Myra,  for 
he  seemed  to  be  addressing  her.  "  And  isn't  it  rea- 
son enough  that  you're  glad  to  be  alive  ?  " 

"But  I  hain't,"  Billy  argued,  shaking  his  head. 
"  You  wouldn'  understand  it  at  your  age,  missy;  but 
as  a  saved  soul  I  counts  the  days.  Long  after  I  was  a 
man  grown,  the  very  sound  of  '  He  comes.  He  comes ! 
the  Judge  severe,'  or  '  Terrible  thought,  shall  I  alone/ 

92 


THE    KAFTERS 

used  to  put  me  all  of  a  twitter.  Now  they  be  but  weak 
meat,  as  you  might  say.  '  Ah,  lovely  appearance  of 
death  ' — that's  more  in  my  line — 

"  Ah,  lovely  appearance  of  death  ! 
What  sight  upon  earth  is  so  fair  ? 
Not  all  the  gay  pageants  that  breathe 
Can  with  a  dead  body  compare" — 


ti 


Don't !  "  Myra  put  both  hands  up  to  her  ears. 
"  Oh,  please  don't,  Mr.  Daddo !  And  I  call  it  wicked 
to  stand  arguing  when  the  Lord,  as  you  say,  put  a 
cheerfuller  tune  in  your  head." 

"  Well,  here  goes,  then !  "  Billy  resumed  "  Praise 
ye  the  Lord."  At  the  fifth  verse  his  face  began  to 
kindle — 

'*  What  is  the  creature's  skill  or  force  ? 

The  sprightly  man,  or  warlike  horse  ? 
The  piercing  wit,  the  active  limb, 

Are  all  too  mean  delights  to  Him. 
But  saints  are  lovely  in  His  sight, 

He  views  His  children  with  delight  ; 
He  sees  their  hope,  He  knows  their  fear, 

And  looks  and  loves  His  image  there." 

"  Ay,  now/'  he  broke  out,  "  to  think  I  didn' 
remember  that  verse  about  children  when  I  started  to 
sing !  And  'twas  of  you,  missy,  and  the  young  mas- 
ter here  the  dear  Lord  was  thinkin'  all  the  time!  " 

He  drojiped  his  eyes  and,  leaning  back  against 

93 


SHINING   FERRY 

the  handle  of  the  sweep,  suddenly  burst  into  prayer. 
"Suffer  little  children,  O  dear  Jesus!  suffer  little 
children.  Have  mercy  on  these  two  tender  lambs, 
and  so  bring  them,  blessed  Lord,  to  Thy  fold !  " 

As  his  fervour  took  hold  of  him  he  left  the  sweep 
to  do  its  own  steering,  and  strode  up  and  down  the 
raft,  picking  his  way  from  balk  to  balk,  skipping 
aside  now  and  again  as  the  water  rose  between  them 
under  his  weight  and  overflowed  his  shoes.  To  Myra, 
unaccustomed  to  be  prayed  for  aloud  and  by  name,  the 
whole  performance  was  absurd  and  embarrassing. 
She  blushed  hotly  under  the  eyes  of  the  other  men, 
and  glanced  at  Clem,  expecting  him  to  be  no  less 
perturbed. 

But  Clem  did  not  hear.  The  two  children 
had  taken  off  their  boots,  and  he  sat  with  the  water 
playing  over  his  naked  insteps  and  his  eyes  turned 
soutliward  to  the  horizon  as  if  indeed  he  saw.  With 
his  blind  gaze  fastened  there  he  seemed  to  wait  pa- 
tiently until  Billy's  prayer  exhausted  itself  and  Billy 
returned  to  the  steering;  and  then  his  lips  too  be- 
gan to  move,  and  he  broke  into  a  curious  song. 

It  frightened  IMyra,  who  had  never  heard  the  like 
of  it ;  for  it  had  no  words,  but  was  just  a  sing-song 
— a  cliant,  low  at  first,  then  rising  shrill  and  clear 
and  strong,  and  reaching  out  as  though  to  challenge 
the    waters    twinkling    between    raft    and    horizon. 

94 


THE    EAFTERS 

Through  it  there  ran  a  note  of  high  courage  touched 
with  tremulous  yearning — ^yearning  to  escape  yonder 
and  be  free. 

She  touched  his  hand.  So  well  she  loved  and  un- 
derstood him  that  even  this  strange  outbreak  she  could 
interpret,  though  it  caught  her  at  unawares.  For  the 
moment  he  did  not  feel  the  touch ;  he  was  far  away. 
He  had  forgotten  her — alas  ! — with  his  blindness. 
She  belonged  to  his  weakness,  not  to  his  strength. 
For  the  while  he  dwelt  in  the  vision  of  his  true  man- 
hood, which  only  his  one  infirmity  forbade  his  in- 
heriting ;  and  she  had  no  place  in  it. 

He  came  back  to  reality  with  a  pitiful  break  and 
quaver  of  the  voice,  and  turned  his  eyes  helplessly 
towards  her.  She  answered  his  gaze  timidly,  as 
though  he  could  see  her.  She  was  searching  his  eyes 
for  tears.  But  there  was  no  trace  of  tears  in  them. 
He  took  the  food  she  handed  him  from  Aunt  Pur- 
chase's basket;  and,  having  eaten,  laid  his  head  in 
her  lap  and  fell  asleep. 

Slowly  under  the  noonday  heat  and  through  the 
long  afternoon  the  two  rafts  moved  across  the  bay, 
towing  each  its  boat  in  whicli  the  rafters  would  re- 
turn in  the  cool  of  the  evening. 

But  the  children  did  not  return  in  them ;  for  on 
the  quay,  where  the  balks  were  due,  to  be  warped 

95 


SHINING    FERRY 

ashore  uiilaslied  and  conveyed  iidand  to  the  mines, 
stood  Jim  Tregay  waiting-  with  their  grandfather's 
blood-mare  Actress  harnessed  ih  a  spring-cart.  How 
came  Jim  here,  at  this  distance  from  home? 

"  Been  waiting  for  you  these  two  hours !  "  he 
called  to  the  children.  "  Jump  into  the  boat  there 
and  come  ashore.  You'm  wanted  at  home,  and  to 
once !  " 


96 


CHAPTEE  VII 

THE    HEIKS    OF    HALL 

They  landed  and  clambered  into  the  spring-cart. 

"  Nothing  wrong  at  home,  I  hope  ?  "  called  Tom 
Trevarthen  from  the  quay's  edge,  as  he  pushed  off  to 
scull  back  to  the  raft. 

"  Oh,  this  is  Susannah's  nonsense,  you  may  be 
sure  !  "  called  back  Myra.  "  I  suppose  she  carried  her 
tales  to  grandfather,  and  he  packed  you  off  after  us, 
Jim  Tregay  ?  Well,  you  needn't  look  so  glum  about 
it.  Aunt  Hannah  gave  us  leave,  and  told  Tom  to  look 
after  us,  and  we've  had  a  heavenly  day,  so  Susannah 
may  scold  till  she's  tired." 

"  Hold  the  reins  for  a  moment,  Miss  Myra,  if  you 
please."  Jim  left  the  mare's  head  and  walked  down 
the  quay,  holding  up  his  hand  to  delay  the  young 
sailor,  who  slewed  his  boat  round,  and  brought  her 
alongside  again.  The  pair  were  whispering  together. 
Myra  heard  a  sharp  exclamation,  and  in  a  moment 
Tom  Trevarthen  was  sculling  away  for  dear  life. 
Jim  ran  back,  jumped  into  the  cart,  and  took  the 
reins. 

"  But  what  is  he  shouting  ?  "  asked  Myra,  as  the 

97 


SHINING   FERRY 

mare's  hoofs  struck  and  slid  on  the  cobbles  and  the 
cart  Seemed  to  spring  forward  beneath  her.  She 
clutched  her  brother  as  thej  swayed  past  mooring- 
posts,  barrels,  coils  of  rope,  and  with  a  wild  lurch 
around  the  tollman's  house  at  the  quay-head,  breasted 
the  steep  village  street.  "  What's  he  shouting  ?  "  she 
demanded  again. 

Jim  made  no  answer,  but,  letting  the  reins  lie 
loose,  flicked  Actress  smartly  with  the  whip.  Even  a 
child  could  tell  that  no  horse  ought  to  be  put  at  a  hill 
in  this  fashion.  Paces  appeared  at  cottage  doors — 
faces  Myra  had  never  seen  in  her  life — gazing  with  a 
look  she  could  not  understand.  All  the  faces,  too, 
seemed  to  wear  this  look. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  " 

At  the  top  of  the  hill,  on  a  smoother  road,  the  mare 
settled  down  to  a  steady  gallop.  Jim  Tregay  turned 
himself  half-about  in  his  seat. 

"  From  battle  and  murder  and  from  sudden  death 
— good  Lord,  deliver  us !  " 

"  Oh,  Jim,  be  kind  and  tell  us !  " 

"Your  grandfather,  missy — the  old  maister ! 
They  found  'en  in  the  counting-house  this  mornin' 
dead  as  a  nail !  " 

Myra,  with  an  arm  about  Clem  and  her  disen- 
gaged hand  gripping  the  light  rail  of  the  cart,  strove 
to  fix  her  mind^  to  bring  her  brain  to  work* upon  Jim's 

98 


THE    HEIKS    OF    HALL 

words.  But  thej  seemed  to  spin  past  her  with  the 
hedgerows  and  the  rushing  wind  in  her  ears.  A  ter- 
rible blow  had  fallen.  Why  could  she  not  feel  it  ? 
^Vhy  did  she  sit  idly  wondering,  when  even  a  dumb 
creature  like  Actress  seemed  to  understand  and  put 
forth  all  her  fleetness  ? 

"  Who  sent  you  for  us  ?    Susannah  ?  " 

"  Susannah's  no  better  than  a  daft  woman.  Peter 
Benny  sent  me.  He  took  down  the  news  to  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase, and  she  told  him  where  you  was  gone.  He 
called  out  the  horse-boat  and  packed  me  across  the 
ferry  instanter." 

Myra  gazed  along  the  ridge  of  the  mare's  back 
to  her  heaving  shoulders. 

"  Clem  !  "  she  whispered. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  boy  slowly,  "  I  am  trying  to  un- 
derstand.    Why  are  we  going  so  fast  ? " 

So  he  too  found  it  difficult.  In  truth  their  grand- 
father had  stood  outside  their  lives,  a  stern,  tow- 
ering shadow  from  the  touch  of  which  they  crept 
away  to  nestle  in  each  other's  love.  Because  his  pres- 
ence brooded  indoors  they  had  never  felt  happy  of 
the  house.  Because  he  seldom  set  foot  in  the  garden 
they  had  made  the  garden  their  playground,  their 
real  nursery ;  the  garden,  and  on  wet  days  the  barn, 
the  hay-lofts,  the  apple-lofts,  any  Alsatia  beyond  the 
rules^  where  they  could  run  free  and  lift  their  voices. 

99 


SHINING    FEKRY 

He  had  never  been  unkind,  but  merely  neglectful, 
unsmiling,  coldly  deterrent,  unapproachable.  They 
knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  great,  that  grown  men 
and  women  stood  in  awe  of  him. 

When  at  length  Jim  Tregay  reined  up  in  the 
roadway  above  the  ferry,  they  found  a  vehicle  at  a 
stand  there,  with  a  rough-coated  grey  horse  in  a  lather 
of  sweat ;  and  peering  over  the  wall  from  her  perch 
in  the  spring-cart,  Myra  spied  Mr.  Benny  on  the  slip- 
way below,  in  converse  with  a  tall,  black -coated  man 
who  held  by  the  hand  a  black-coated  boy.  As  a  child, 
she  naturally  let  her  gaze  rest  longer  on  the  boy  than 
on  the  man  ;  but  liy  and  by,  as  she  led  Clem  down 
the  slipway,  she  found  herself  staring  at  the  two  with 
almost  equal  distaste. 

Little  Mr.  Benny  ran  up  the  slipway  to  meet  the 
children.  His  eyes  were  red,  and  it  was  with  diffi- 
culty that  he  controlled  his  voice. 

"  My  dears,"  he  began,  taking  Myra  by  the  hand 
and  clasping  it  between  his  palms,  "  my  poor  dears, 
a  blow  indeed !  a  terrible  blow !  Tbur  uncle — dear 
me,  I  believe  you  have  never  met !  Let  me  present 
you  to  your  uncle,  Mr.  Samuel,  and  your  cousin. 
Master  Calvin  Rosewarne.  These  are  the  children, 
Mr,  Samuel — Miss  Mvra  and  Master  Clem — and,  as 
I  was  saying,  I  sent  a  trap  to  fetch  them  home  with 
all  speed." 

100 


THE    HEIRS    OF    HALL 

The  man  in  Llack  shook  hands  with  the  children 
gloomily.  Myra  noted  that  his  whiskers  were  black 
and  straggling,  and  that,  though  his  npper  lip  was 
long,  it  did  not  hide  his  prominent  yellow  teeth.  As 
for  the  boy,  he  shook  hands  as  if  under  protest,  and 
fell  at  once  to  staring  hard  at  Clem.  He  had  a 
pasty-white  face,  which  looked  the  unhealthicr  for 
being  surmounted  by  a  natty  velveteen  cap  with  a 
patent-leather  uj>and-down  peak,  and  he  wore  a  black 
overcoat,  like  a  minister's,  knickerbockers,  grey  wool- 
len stockings,  and  spring-side  boots,  the  tags  of  which 
he  had  neglected  to  turn  in. 

"  You  sent  for  them  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Samuel  sourly 
as  he  shook  hands,  turning  a  fishy  eye  upon  Mr. 
Benny.     "  Why  did  you  send  for  them  ?  " 

"  Eh  ?  "  stammered  ]\Ir.  Benny.  "  Their  poor 
grandfather,  Mr.  Samuel !  I  could  not  have  forgiven 
myself.  It  was,  after  telegraphing  to  you,  my  first 
thought." 

"  I  can't  see  with  what  object  you  sent  for  them," 
persisted  Mr.  Samuel,  and  pulled  at  his  ragged  whisk- 
ers. "  Were  they — er — away  on  a  visit  ?  staying 
with  friends  ?  If  so,  I  should  have  thought  they  were 
much  better  left  till  after  the  funeral." 

He  shifted  his  gaze  from  Mr.  Benny  and  fixed  it 
on  Myra,  who  flushed  hotly.  What  right  had  this 
Mr.  Samuel  to  be  interfering  and  taking  charge  ? 

101 


SHINING   FERKY 

"  We  were  not  staying  with  friends,"  she  an- 
swered, "  or  paying  any  visit.  Clem  and  I  have  never 
slept  away  from  lioiiic  in  our  lives.  We  have  heen 
across  the  hay  with  the  rafts — that's  all ;  and  Aunt 
Hannah  gave  us  leave." 

He  ignored  her  display  of  temper.  "  You've  been 
let  run  wild,  you  two,  I  daresay,"  he  replied,  in  a 
tone  almost  rallying.  "  I  guess  you  have  had  matters 
pretty  much  your  ow^n  way." 

Poor  Myra !  This  was  the  first  wliolo  holiday 
she  and  Clem  had  ever  taken.  But  how  could  she 
tell  him  ?  She  gulped  down  her  tears — she  was  glad 
he  had  turned  away  without  perceiving  them — 
clutched  Clem's  hand  in  silence,  and  followed  down  to 
the  boat,  which  Uncle  Vro  was  bringing  alongside. 

As  the  party  settled  themselves  in  the  sternsheets 
Master  Calvin  fixed  his  pale,  gooseberry-coloured  eyes 
on  hers. 

"  You  needn't  show  temper,"  he  said  slowly,  with 
the  air  of  a  young  ruminant  aiiiiiiiiL 

"  I'm  not  showing  temper!  "  Myra  retorted  in  a 
tone  which  certainly  belied  her. 

"Yes,  you  are;  and  you've  told  a  fil),  wliicli  only 
makes  things  worse."  He  smiled  coiiiiihiccntly  at 
having  beaten  her  in  argument,  and  Myra  thought  she 
had  never  met  such  an  insuiferable  boy  in  her  life. 

He  transferred  his  unblinking  stare  to  Clem,  and 

102 


THE    HEIRS    OF    HALL 

for  half  a  minute  took  stock  of  him  silently,  "  Is  he 
blind,"  he  asked  aloud,  "  or  only  pretending  ?  " 

Myra's  face  flamed  now.  A  little  more,  and  she 
had  boxed  his  ears ;  but  she  checked  herself  and,  ca- 
ressing the  back  of  Clem's  hand,  answered  with  grave 
irony,  "  He  was  blind,  up  to  a  minute  ago ;  but  now, 
since  seeing  you,  he  prefers  to  be  pretending." 

Master  Calvin  considered  this  for  almost  a 
minute.  "  That's  rude,"  he  announced  at  length 
decisively. 

But  meanwhile  other  passengers  in  the  boat  had 
found  time  to  get  themselves  at  loggerheads. 

"  Your  servant.  Master  Samuel !  "  began  old 
Nicky  affably,  as  he  fell  to  his  oars.  "  I  hope  I  see 
'ee  well,  though  'tis  a  sad  wind  that  blows  'ee  here. 
Ay,  there's  a  prophet  gone  this  day  from  Israel !  " 

Mr.  Samuel  frowned.  "  Good-evening,"  he  an- 
swered coldly,  and  added,  with  an  effort  to  be  polite, 
"  I  seem  to  know  your  faoe,  too." 

"  He-he !  "  Uncle  Nicky  leaned  on  his  oars  with 
a  senile  chuckle.  "  Know  my  face,  dost-a  ?  Ought 
to,  be  sure,  for  I  be  the  same  Nicholas  Yro  that  fer- 
ried 'ee  back  and  forth  in  the  old  days,  afore  your 
father's  stomach  soured  against  'ee.  Dostn't-a  mind 
that  evening  I  put  'ee  across  with  your  trunks  for  the 
last  time  ?  '  Never  take  on.  Master  Sam,'  said  I — 
for  all  the  parish  knew  and  talked  of  your  differences 

103 


SHINING    FERRY 

— '  give  the  old  man  time,  and  you'll  be  coming  home 
for  the  Christmas  holidays  as  welcome  as  flowers  in 
May.'  '  Not  me,'  says  yon;  '  my  father's  is  a  house 
o'  wi-ath,  and  there's  no  place  for  me.'  A  mort  o'  tide- 
water have  runned  up  an'  down  since  you  spoke  they 
words ;  but  here  be  I,  Nicholas  Vro,  takin'  'ee  back 
home  as  I  promised.  Many  times  I've  a-pictered  'ee, 
hearing  you  was  grown  prosperous  and  a  married  man 
and  had  took  up  with  religion.  I  won't  say  that  years 
have  bettered  your  appearance;  'tisn't  their  way. 
But  I'd  ha'  picked  out  your  face  in  a  crowd — or 
your  cheeld's,  for  that  matter.  He  features  you 
wonderful." 

"  I  remember  you  now,"  said  Mr.  Sam.  "  You 
haven't  grown  any  less  talkative  in  all  these  years." 
He  turned  to  Mr.  Benny.  "  Your  telegram  was  sent 
off  at  nine-forty-five.  Was  that  as  early  as  possible  ?  " 
"  I  can  say  '  yes  '  to  that,  Mr.  Samuel.  Of  course 
I  had  to  iK'gin  by  quieting  the  servants — they  were 
scared  out  of  their  wdts,  and  it  took  me  some  time  to 
coax  them  out  of  their  alarm.  Then,  taking  boat, 
I  rowed  down  to  the  post-office,  stopping  only  at  the 
barque  yonder,  to  break  the  news  to  Mrs.  Purchase. 
She  put  on  her  bonnet  at  once  and  was  rowed  ashore. 
'Twas  from  her,  too,  I  learned  the  whereabouts  of 
Miss  Myra  and  Master  Clem  ;  for  up  at  the  house  they 
could  not  be  found,  and  this  had  thrown  Miss  Su- 

104 


THE    HEIES    OF    HALL 

sannah  into  worse  hysterics — she  could  only  imagine 
some  new  disaster.  At  first  I  was  minded  to  send  a 
boat  after  them,  but  by  this  time  the  rafts  were  a 
good  two  miles  beyond  the  harbour,  and  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase said,  '  No,  they  can  do  no  good,  poor  dears ; 
let  them  have  their  few  hours'  pleasure.'  From  the 
barque  I  pulled  straight  to  the  post-office,  and  sent 
off  the  telegram,  and — dear  me,  yes — at  the  same  time 
I  posted  a  letter.  I  had  found  it,  ready  stamped,  ly- 
ing on  the  floor  by  my  poor  nuister's  feet.  It  must 
have  dropped  from  his  hand ;  no  doubt  he  had  just 
finished  writing  it  when  the  end  came." 

"  But  why  such  a  hurry  to  post  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  marked  '  Private  and  Immediate.'  " 

"  For  whom  ?  " 

Mr.  Benny  hesitated.  "  You  will  excuse  me, 
Mr.  Samuel  " — 

"  Confidential  ?  " 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  sir,  when  Mr.  Bosewarne 
marked  his  letters  so  I  made  it  a  rule  never  to  read 
the  address.  But  this  one — coming  upon  it  as  I  did 
— I  couldn't  helj)  " — 

"  You  prefer  to  keep  the  address  to  yourself?  " 

"  With  your  leave,  sir." 

Mr.  Sanuiel  eyed  him  sharply.  "  Quite  right !  " 
he  said  curtly,  with  a  glance  at  Uncle  Vro;  but  the 
old  man  was  not  listening. 

105 


SHINING    FERKY 

"Lord!  and  I  mind  his  second  marriage!" 
he  muttered.  "  A  proper  hidy  she  was,  from  np 
Tamar-waj.  lie  brought  her  home  across  water,  and 
that's  nnliifky,  they  say;  but  ho  never  minded  hick. 
Firm  as  a  nail  he  ever  was,  and  put  me  in  mind  of 
the  nail  in  Isaiah:  'As  a  nail  in  a  sure  place  I  will 
fasten  him,  and  the}-  shall  hang  upon  him  all  the 
glory  of  his  father's  house,  the  offspring  and  the  is- 
sue, all  vessels  of  small  quantity,  from  the  vessels  of 
cups  even  to  all  the  vessels  of  flagons.'  But  the  off- 
spring and  the  issue,  my  dears,"  he  went  on,  address- 
ing Clem  and  Myra,  "  was  but  your  poor  mother. 
Well-a-well,  weak  or  strong,  we  go  in  our  time !  " 

As  they  landed  and  climbed  the  hill,  Mr.  Sam 
spoke  with  Peter  Benny  aside. 

"  They  may  ask  about  that  letter  at  the  inquest. 
You  have  thought  of  the  inquest,  of  course  ?  " 

"  If  they  do,  I  must  answer  them." 

"  So  far  as  you  know,  there  was  nothing  in  it  to 
cause  strong  emotion — nothing  to  account —  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  no,"  answered  ]\Ir.  Benny,  staring  at 
him  in  mild  astonishment;  ''so  far  as  I  know,  noth- 
ing whatever." 

After  packing  Susannah  off  to  her  room  with  a 
Bible  and  a  smelling-bottle,  Mrs.  Purchase  had  set 
herself  to  reduce  the  household  to  order.     "  'Tisn't  in 

106 


THE    HEIRS    OF    HALL 

nature  to  think  of  death,"  confessed  Martha  the 
(Uiiry-girl,  "  when  you'm  worrited  from  pillar  to  post 
hy  a  woman  in  creaky  boots." 

Above  and  beside  her  creaky  boots  Aunt  Hannah 
had  a  cheerful,  incurable  habit  of  slamming  every 
door  she  passed  through.  It  came,  she  would  explain, 
of  living  on  shipboard  where  cabin  was  divided  from 
cabin  either  by  a  simple  curtain  or  by  sliding  panels. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  she  kept  the  house  of  mourning  re- 
echoing that  day  "  like  a  labouring  ship  with  a  cargo 
of  tinware,"  to  quote  Martha  again,  whose  speech  de- 
rived many  forcible  idioms  from  her  father,  the  mate 
of  a  coaster. 

Nevertheless — and  although  it  ajjpeared  to  induce 
a  steady  breeze  through  the  house,  rising  to  a  moderate 
gale  when  meals  were  toward — Aunt  Hannah's  pres- 
ence acted  like  a  tonic  on  all.  She  presented  to  Mr. 
Sam  a  weather-ruddied  cheek,  receiving  his  kiss  on 
what,  in  so  round  a  face  as  hers,  might  pass  for  the 
point  of  the  jaw.  In  saluting  Master  Calvin  she  had 
perforce  to  take  the  oifensive,  and  did  so  with  equal 
aplomb.  After  a  rapid  survey  of  some  three  seconds 
she  picked  off  his  velveteen  cap  and  kissed  him  ac- 
curately in  the  centre  of  the  forehead. 

"  I  meant  to  do  it  on  the  top  of  his  head,"  she 
informed  Myra  later,  "  but  the  ghastly  child  was 
smothered  in  bear's-greasc.    Lord  knows  that,  as  'twas, 

107 


SHINING   FEREY 

I  very  nearly  slipped  in  my  tlnniib  and  kissed  that, 
as  I've  heard  tell  that  folks  do  in  the  witness-box." 

]\lyra  did  not  understand  the  alhision  ;  but  from 
the  first  she  divined  that  her  aunt  niisliked  Master 
Calvin  and  found  that  mislike  consolatory. 

"  As  for  these  two,"  the  good  lady  announced, 
indicating  brother  and  sister,  "  I  allow  to  myself 
they'll  be  best  out  of  the  way  till  the  funeral.  I've 
been  through  the  clothes-press,  and  jnit  u]>  their  night- 
clothes  and  a  few  odd  items  in  a  hand-bag.  'Siah  will 
bo  here  at  eight-thirty  sharp,  to  take  'em  aboard  with 
him.  For  my  part,  I  reckon  to  sleep  here  to-night 
and  look  after  things  till  that  fool  Susannah  comes  to 
her  senses.  And  as  for  you,  Peter  Benny,  you'll  stay 
supper,  I  hope,  for  there's  supper  ready  and  waiting 
to  be  dished — a  roast  leg  of  land),  with  green  peas.  It 
puts  me  in  mind  of  Easter  Day,"  she  added  inconse- 
quently.  "  You  may  remember,  Sam,  that  your  poor 
father  always  stickled  for  a  roast  leo-  of  lamb  at 
Easter.  lie  was  a  good  Christian  to  that  extent,  I 
thank  the  Lord  !  " 

"  And  I  thank  you,  ma'am,"  protested  Mr. 
Benny,  "  but  I  couldn't  touch  a  morsel — indeed  I 
couldn't,  though  you  offer  it  so  kindly." 

"  To  my  knowledge,  you've  not  eaten  enough 
to-day  to  keep  a  mouse  alive.  Well,  if  you  won't, 
you  won't;  but  I've  been  through  the  garden,  and 

108 


THE    HEIKS    OF    HALL 

there's  a  dish  of  strawberries  to  take  home  to  your 
wife." 

Mrs.  Purchase  could  not  know — good  soul — that 
in  removing  the  two  children  to  shipboard,  to  spare 
them  the  ugly  preparations  for  the  funeral,  she  was 
connecting  their  grandfather's  death  in  their  minds 
for  ever  with  the  most  delightful  holiday  in  life.  Yet 
so  it  was.  Punctually  at  half-past  eight  Mr.  Pur- 
chase appeared  and  escorted  them  on  board  the  Vir- 
tuous Lady;  and  so^  out-tired  with  their  long  day, 
drugged  and  drowsed  by  strong  salt  air  and  sun- 
shine and  the  swift  homeward  drive,  they  came  at 
nightfall,  and  as  knights  and  princesses  come  in  fairy 
tales,  to  the  palace  of  enchantment.  As  they  drew 
close,  its  walls  towered  up  terribly  and  overhung 
them,  lightless,  forbidding;  but  far  aloft  the  riding- 
lamp  flamed  like  a  star,  and  Myra  clapped  her  hands 
as  she  reached  the  deck  and  peered  down  into  a  mar- 
vellous doll's-house  fitted  with  couches,  muslin  blinds, 
and  brass-locked  cupboards  that  twinkled  in  the  lamp- 
light. There  was  a  stateroom,  too,  with  a  half-drawm 
red  curtain  in  place  of  a  door,  and  beyond  the  curtain 
a  glimpse  of  two  beds,  one  above  the  other,  with  white 
sheets  turned  back  and  ready  for  the  sleepers — at  once 
like  and  deliciously  unlike  the  beds  at  home.  The 
children,  having  unpacked  their  bag  and  undressed, 

109 


SHIN^ING    FERTIY 

knelt  down  side  bj  side  as  usual  in  their  white  night- 
rails.  But  Myra  could  not  pray,  although  she  re- 
peated the  words  with  Clem.  Her  eyes  wandered 
among  marvels.  The  lower  bed  (assigned  to  Clem  by 
reason  of  his  blindness)  was  not  only  a  bed  but  a  chest 
of  drawers. 

' '  Gentle  Jesus,  meek  and  mild, 
Look  upon  a  little  child  ; 
Pity  my  simplicity" — 

Her  fingers  felt  and  tried  the  brass  handles.  Yes, 
a  real  chest  of  drawers  !  And  the  washstand  folded  up 
in  a  box,  and  in  place  of  a  chair  was  a  rack  with  net- 
ting in  which  to  lay  their  garments  for  the  night! 
"  God  bless  dear  Clem,  and  grandfather  " —  What 
was  she  saying?  Their  grandfather  was  dead,  and 
praying  for  dead  people  was  wicked.  Susannah  had 
once  caught  her  praying  for  her  mother,  and  had  told 
her  that  it  was  wicked,  with  a  decisiveness  that  closed 
all  arginnent.  I^one  the  less  she  had  pra^'ed  for  her 
mother  since  then — once  or  twice,  perhaps  half  a 
dozen  times — though  slily  and  in  a  terror  of  being 
punished  for  it  and  sent  to  hell.  "  And  Susannah, 
and  Martha,  and  Elizabeth  Jane " — this  was  the 
housemaid — "  and  Peter  Benny,  and  Jim  Tregay, 
and  all  kind  friends  and  relations  " — including  Uncle 
Sam  and  that  odious  boy  of  his  ?  Well,  they  miglit  go 
down  in  the  list ;  but  she  wouldn't  pretend  to  like  them. 

110 


THE    HEIES    OF    HALL 

"  Ready,  my  dears  ?  "  asked  Uncle  Purchase  from 
outside.  "  Sing  out  Avhen  you're  in  bed,  and  I'll  come 
and  dowse  the  lights." 

He  did  so,  and  stood  for  a  moment  hesitating, 
scarcely  visible  in  the  faint  radiance  cast  through 
the  doorway  by  the  lamp  in  his  own  cabin.  Maybe 
the  proper  thing  would  be  to  give  them  a  kiss 
apiece?  He  could  not  be  sure,  being  a  childless 
man.  He  ended  by  saying  good-night  so  gruffly  that 
Myra  fancied  he  must  be  in  a  bad  temper. 

"  Clem !  "  she  whispered,  after  lying  still  for  a 
while,  staring  into  darkness.     "  Clem !  " 

But  Clem  was  already  sound  asleep. 

She  sighed  and  turned  on  her  pillow.  She  had 
wanted  to  discuss  with  him  a  thought  that  vexed 
her.  Did  folks  love  one  another  when  they  grew 
up?  And,  if  so,  how  did  they  manage  it,  seeing 
that  so  few  grown-ups  had  anything  lovable  about 
them  ?  Clem  and  she,  of  course,  would  go  on  loving 
each  other  always;  but  that  was  different.  When 
one  grown-up  person  died,  were  the  others  really 
sorry?  No  one  seemed  sorry  for  her  grandfather — 
no  one — except,  perhaps,  Peter  Benny.    .    .    .   • 

For  two  days  the  children  lived  an  enchanted  life, 
interrupted  only  by  a  visit  to  Miss  de  Gruchy,  the 
dressmaker  across  the  water,  and  by  a  miserable  two 

111 


SHINING    FERRY 

hours  in  wliicli  they  were  supposed  to  entertain 
their  Consin  Calvin,  who  had  been  sent  to  play  with 
them.  The  boy — he  was  about  a  year  older  than 
Myra — greeted  them  with  an  air  of  high  import- 
ance. 

''  I've  seen  the  corp !  "  he  announced  in  an 
ogreish   whisper. 

Myra  had  the  sense  to  guess  that  if  she  gave 
any  sign  of  horror  he  would  only  show  off  the  more 
and  tease  her.  She  met  him,  therefore,  on  his  own 
ground. 

"  Well,  you  needn't  think  we  want  to,  because  we 
don't !  " 

"  Oh,  they'll  show  it  to  you  before  they  screw  it 
down.     But  I  saw  it  first !  " 

For  the  next  forty-eight  hours  this  awful  pos- 
sibility darkened  her  delight.  For  it  was  a  pos- 
sibility. Grown  people  did  such  monstrous  unac- 
countable things,  there  was  no  saying  what  they 
might  not  be  up  to  next.  And  here,  for  once,  was 
an  ordeal  Clem  could  not  share  with  her.  He  was 
blind.     Alone,  if  it  must  be,  she  must  endure  it. 

She  did  not  feel  safe  until  the  coffin  had  been 
actually  packed  in  the  hearse  and  the  long  proces- 
sion started.  To  her  dismay,  they  had  parted  her 
from  Clem.  He  rode  in  the  first  coach  beside  Aunt 
Hannah  and  vis-a-vis  with  her  Uncle  Samuel  and 

112 


THE    HEIES    OF    HALL 

Cousin  Calvin ;  she  in  the  second  with  Mr.  Pur- 
chase, Peter  Benny,  and  Mr.  Tulse  the  lawyer,  a  large- 
headed,  pallid  man  with  a  strong,  clean-shaven  face 
and  an  air  of  having  attended  so  many  funerals 
that  he  paid  this  one  no  particular  attention.  His 
careless  gentility  obviously  impressed  Mr.  Purchase, 
who  mopped  his  forehead  at  half-minute  inter^'als 
and  as  frequently  remarked  that  the  day  was  hot 
even  for  the  time  of  year.  Mr.  Benny  was  solicitous 
to  know  if  Mr.  Tulse  preferred  the  window  up  or 
down.  Mr.  Tulse  preferred  it  down,  and  took  snuff 
in  such  profusion  that  by  and  by  Myra  could  not 
distinguish  the  floating  particles  from  the  dust  which 
entered  from  the  roadway,  stirred  up  by  the  feet 
of  the  crowd  backing  to  let  the  carriages  pass.  Myra 
had  never  seen,  never  dreamed  of,  such  a  crowd.  It 
lined  both  sides  of  the  road  almost  to  the  church 
gate — and  from  IL^ll  to  the  church  was  a  good  mile 
and  a  half;  lines  of  freemasons  with  their  aprons, 
lines  of  foresters  in  green  sashes,  lines  of  coast- 
guards, of  fishermen  in  blue  jerseys  crossed  with  the 
black  and  white  mourning  ribbons  of  the  local  Be- 
nevolent Club ;  here  and  there  groups  of  staring  chil- 
dren, some  holding  tightly  by  their  mothers'  hands; 
here  and  there  a  belated  gig,  quartering  to  give  way 
or  falling  back  to  take  up  its  place  in  the  rear  of  the 
line.     The  sun  beat  down  on  the  roof  of  the  coach, 

113 


SHINING    FEPJiY 

drawing  a  powerful  odour  of  camphor  from  its  cush- 
ions. For  years  after  the  scent  of  camphor  recalled 
all  the  moving  pageant  and  the  figure  of  Mr.  Tulse 
seated  in  face  of  her  and  abstractedly  taking  snuff. 
But  at  the  time,  and  until  they  drew  up  at  the  church- 
yard gate,  she  was  wondering  why  the  ships  in  the 
harbour  had  dressed  themselves  in  gay  bunting.  The 
flags  were  all  half-masted,  of  course ;  but  she  had  not 
observed  this,  nor,  if  she  had,  would  she  have  known 
the  meaning  of  it. 

In  the  great  family  pew  she  found  herself  by 
Clem's  side,  listening  to  the  lesson,  of  which  a  few 
words  and  sentences  somehow  remained  in  her  mem- 
ory; and  again,  as  they  trooped  out,  Clem's  hand 
was  in  hers.  But  to  the  ceremony  she  paid  little 
attention.  The  grave  had  been  dug  hard  by  the 
south-east  corner  of  the  churchyard,  close  by  a  hedge 
of  thorn,  on  the  farther  side  of  which  the  ground 
fell  steeply  to  a  narrow  coonibe.  The  bright  sun, 
sinking  behind  the  battlements  of  the  church  tower, 
flung  their  shadow  so  that  a  part  cut  across  the  parson's 
dazzling  surplice,  while  a  part  fell  and  continued  the 
pattern  on  the  hillside  across  the  valley.  And  while 
the  parson  recited,  high  over  the  tower  a  lark  sang. 

Someone  asked  her  if  she  wished  to  look  down  on 
the  coffin  in  its  bed.  She  shrank  away,  fearing  for 
the  moniciit  that  the  trick  of  whicli  she  had  stood  in 

114 


THE    IIEIKS    OF    HALL 

dread  for  two  days  was  to  be  played  on  her  now 
at  the  last. 

But  the  mysterious  doings  of  her  elders  were  not 
yet  at  an  end,  for  no  sooner  had  they  reached  home 
again  than  she  and  Clem  were  hustled  into  the 
parlour,  to  find  Mr.  Tulse  seated  at  the  head  of  the 
long  table  with  a  paper  in  his  hand,  and  Mr.  Samuel 
in  a  chair  by  the  empty  fireplace  with  Cousin  Cal- 
vin beside  him.  Aunt  Hannah  disposed  herself  be- 
tween the  two  children  with  her  back  to  a  window, 
and  Uncle  Purchase,  having  closed  the  door  with 
extraordinary  caution,  droi)ped  upon  the  edge  of 
a  chair  and  sat  as  if  ready  to  jump  up  at  call  and 
expel  any  intruder. 

Mr.  Tulse  glanced  around  with  that  quiet,  well- 
bred  air  of  his  which  seemed  to  take  everything  for 
granted.  Having  satisfied  himself  that  all  were  as- 
sembled, he  cleared  his  throat  and  began  to  read. 
His  manner  and  intonation  suggested  family  prayers ; 
and  Myra,  not  doubting  that  this  must  be  some  kind 
of  postscript  to  the  burial  service  for  the  private 
consolation  of  the  family,  let  her  mind  wander.  The 
word  "  testament  "  in  the  first  sentence  seemed  to 
make  this  certain,  and  the  sentence  or  two  that  fol- 
lowed had  a  i)()lysyllabic  vagueness  which  by  habit 
she  connected  with  tli(>  offices  of  religion.  The 
strained  look  on  Aunt  Hannah's  face  drew  her  at- 

115 


SHINING    FEREY 

tention  away  from  Mr.  Tiilsr  and  his  recital.  Ilcr 
car  had  hccii  caught,  too,  hy  a  low  whining  sound  in 
the  next  room.  By  and  by  she  heard  him  speak  her 
own  name — ^lier's  and  Clem's  together — and  glanced 
around  nervously.  She  had  a  particular  dislike  of 
being  prayed  for  by  name.  It  made  her  blush  and 
gave  her  a  curious  sinking  sensation  in  the  pit  of 
the  stomach.  Her  eyes,  as  it  happened,  came  to 
rest  on  her  Uncle  Samuors,  Avho  withdrew  his  gaze 
at  once  and  stared  into  the  fireplace. 

A  moment  later  Mr.  Tulse  brought  his  reading  to 
an  end.  There  was  a  pause,  broken  by  someone's 
pushing  back  a  chair.  She  gazed  around  inquiringly, 
thinking  that  this  perhaps  might  be  a  signal  for 
all  to  kneel. 

Her  aunt  had  risen,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
with  twitching  face,  challenging  a  look  from  Mr. 
Samuel,  who  continued  to  stare  at  the  shavings  in 
the  fireplace. 

Whatever  Mrs.  Purchase  had  on  her  lips  to  say 
to  him,  she  controlled  herself.  But  she  turned  npon 
Myra  and  Clem,  and  licr  eyes  filled. 

*' My  poor  dears!  "  she  said,  stretching  out  both 
hands.     "  My  poor,  poor  dears !  " 

Myra  thought  it  passing  strange  that,  if  she  and 
Clem  were  to  be  pitied  for  losing  their  grandfather, 
Aunt   Hannah   should   have   waited    till   now.      She 

116 


THE    HEIRS    OF    HALL 

paid,  Jiowever,  little  heed  to  this,  but  ran  past  her 
aunt's  outstretched  arms  to  the  door  of  the  counting- 
house.  Within,  on  the  rug  beside  the  empty  chair, 
weak  with  voluntary  starvation,  lay  stretched  the 
little  greyhound,  and  whined  for  her  master. 


117 


BOOK  II 


CHAPTER    VIII 


HESTER    AREIVES 


Hester  Marvin  stood  on  the  windy  platform 
gazing  after  the  train.  Her  limbs  were  cramped  and 
stiff  after  the  long  night  journey;  the  grey  morning- 
hour  discouraged  her ;  and  the  landscape — a  stretch 
of  grey-green  marsh  with  a  horizon-line  of  slate- 
roofed  cottages  terminated  by  a  single  factory  chim- 
ney— ^was  not  one  to  raise  the  spirits.  Even  the 
breeze  blowing  across  the  marsh  had  an  unfamiliar 
edge.     She  felt  it,  and  shivered. 

She  had  been  the  only  passenger  to  alight  here 
from  the  train,  which  had  brought  her  almost  all  the 
way  from  the  Midlands ;  and  as  it  steamed  off,  its 
smoke  blown  level  along  the  carriage  roofs,  her  gaze 
followed  it  wistfully,  almost  forlornly,  with  a  sense 
of  lost  companionship.  She  knew  this  to  be  absurd, 
and  yet  she  felt  it. 

Between  the  chimney  and  this  ridge  the  train 
passed  out  of  sight;  but  still  her  gaze  followed  the 
long  curve  of  the  metals  across  the  marsh.  They 
stretched  away,  and  with  them  the  country  seemed 

121 


SIIIim^G    FERRY 

to  expand  and  flatten  itself,  yielding  to  the  sky  an 
altogether  disproportionate  share  of  the  prospect — 
at  any  rate  in  eyes  accustomed  to  the  close  elms  and 
crooked  hedgerows  of  Warwickshire. 

She  withdrew  her  gaze  at  last,  and  glancing  up 
the  long  platform  spied  her  solitary  trunk,  as  absurdly 
forlorn  as  herself.  A  tall  man — ^the  stationmaster — 
bent  over  it,  examining  the  label,  and  she  walked 
towards  him,  glancing  up  as  she  passed  the  station 
clock. 

"  N^o  use  your  looking  at  him/'  said  the  station- 
master,  straightening  himself  up  in  time  to  observe 
the  glance.  "  He  never  kept  time  yet,  and  don't 
mean  to  begin.     Breaks  my  heart,  he  do." 

"  How  far  is  it  from  here  to  Troy  ?  " 

"  Three  miles  and  a  half,  M-e  reckon  it ;  but  you 
may  call  it  four,  counting  the  hills." 

"  Oh,  there  are  hills,  are  there  ?  "  said  Hester, 
and  looking  around  she  blushed ;  for  indeed  the  coun- 
try was  hilly  on  three  sides  of  her  and  flat  only 
in  the  direction  w^hither  she  had  been  staring  after 
the  train. 

The  stationmaster  did  not  observe  her  confusion. 
"  Were  you  expecting  anyone  to  meet  you,  miss  ? " 
he  asked. 

"Yes,  from  Troy.  A  Mr.  Benny — Mr.  Peter 
Benny."    She  felt  for  the  letter  in  her  pocket. 

122 


HESTER    ARRIVES 

The  stationmaster's  smile  broadened.  "  Peter 
Benny  ?  To  be  sure — a  punctual  man,  too,  but  with 
a  terrible  long  family.  And  when  a  man  has  a 
long  family,  and  leaves  these  little  things  to  'em — 
But  someone  will  be  here,  miss,  sooner  or  later.  And 
this  will  be  your  luggage  ?  " 

"  Three  miles  and  a  half,  you  say  ? — or  four  at 
the  most  ? "  Hester  stood  considering,  while  her 
eyes  wandered  across  to  a  siding  beyond  the  up- 
platform,  where  three  men  stood  in  talk  before  a 
goods  van.  Two  of  them  were  porters;  the  third — 
a  young  fellow  in  blue  jersey,  blue  cloth  trousers, 
and  a  peaked  cap — was  apparently  persuading  them 
to  open  the  van,  which  they  no  sooner  did  than 
he  leapt  inside.  Hester  heard  him  calling  from 
within  the  van  and  the  two  porters  laughing.  "  Four 
miles  ?  "  She  turned  to  the  stationmaster  again.  "  I 
can  walk  that  easily.  You  have  a  cloak-room,  I  sup- 
pose, where  I  can  leave  my  trunk  ? " 

"  I'll  take  it  home  with  me,  miss,  for  safety :  that 
is,  if  you're  really  bent  on  walking."  He  jerked  his 
thumb  towards  a  cottage  on  the  slope  behind.  "  Xo 
favour  at  all.  I'm  just  going  back  to  breakfast,  and 
it  won't  take  me  a  minute  to  fetch  out  a  barrow  and 
run  it  home.  Whoever  comes  for  your  luggage  will 
know  where  to  call.  You'd  best  give  me  your  hand- 
bag too." 

123 


SHINING    FERKY 

'"  Thank  you,  but  I  can  carry  that  easily." 

"  Tlio  Bennys  always  turn  up  sooner  or  later," 
he  went  on  musingly.  "  If  they  miss  one  train,  they 
catch  the  next.  Kcally,  miss,  there's  no  occasion  to 
walk.  But  if  you  must,  and  I  may  make  so  bold, 
why  not  step  over  to  my  house  and  have  a  cup  of 
tea  before  starting  ?  The  kettle's  on  the  boil,  and 
my  wife  would  make  you  welcome.  We've  a  refresh- 
ment-room here  in  the  station,"  he  added  apologeti- 
cally, "  but  it  don't  open  till  the  nine-twenty-seven." 

Hester  thanked  him  again,  but  would  not  accept 
the  invitation.  He  fetched  the  barrow  for  her  trunk, 
and  walked  some  little  distance  with  her,  wheeling 
it.  Where  their  ways  parted  he  gave  her  the  mi- 
nutest directions,  and  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  road- 
w^ay  to  w^atch  her  safely  past  her  first  turning. 

The  aspect  of  the  land  was  strange  to  her,  but  the 
stationmaster's  kindness  had  made  it  less  unhomely. 
The  road  ran  under  the  base  of  a  hill  to  her  left,  be- 
tween it  and  the  marsh.  It  rose  a  little  before  reach- 
ing the  line  of  slate-roofed  cottages;  and  as  she 
mounted  this  rise  the  wind  met  her  more  strongly,  and 
with  more  of  that  tonic  sharpness  she  had  shrunk  from 
a  while  ago.  It  was  shrewd,  yet  she  felt  that  it  was 
also  wholesome.  Above  the  cottage  roofs  she  now 
perceived  many  masts  of  vessels  clustered  near  the 
base  of  the  tall  chimney.     She  bent  her  head  against 

124 


HESTEK    AKRIVES 

the  breeze.  When  she  raised  it  again  after  a  short 
stiff  climb;  she  looked — and  for  the  first  time  in  her 
life — upon  the  open  sea. 

It  stretched — another  straight  line — ^beyond  the 
cottage  roofs,  in  colour  a  pale,  unvaried  grey-blue, 
and  her  first  sensation  was  wonder  at  its  bare  sim- 
plicity. She  rested  her  bag  upon  the  low  hedge,  and 
stood  beside  it  at  gaze,  her  body  bent  forward  to 
meet  the  wind. 

For  five  minutes  and  more  she  stood  there,  so 
completely  absorbed  that  the  sound  of  footsteps  on 
the  road  drew  near  and  passed  her  unheard.  A  few 
paces  beyond  they  came  to  a  halt. 

"  Begging  your  pardon,  miss,  but  that  bag  is 
heavy  for  you,"  said  a  voice. 

She  turned  with  a  start,  and,  as  she  did  so,  was 
aware  of  a  scent  about  her,  not  strong,  but  deliciously 
clean  and  fragrant.  It  came  from  a  tuft  of  wild 
thyme  on  which  her  palm  had  been  pressing  while 
she  leaned. 

"  Thank  you,  it  is  not  heavy,"  she  answered,  in 
some  confusion.  "  I — I  just  rested  it  here  while 
I  looked  out  to  sea." 

She  knew  him  at  once  for  the  blue-jcrseyed  young 
man  she  had  seen  in  Inlk  witli  the  porters;  and  ap- 
parently he  had  prevailed,  for  he  stooped  under  the 
weight  of  a  great  burden,  in  which  Hester  recognised 

125 


SHINING   FEREY 

a  blackboard,  an  easel,  a  coloured  globe,  and  sundry 
articles  of  school  furniture  very  cleverly  lashed  to- 
gether and  slung  across  his  shoulder  by  a  stout  cord. 
He  was  smiling,  and  she  smiled  too,  moved  perhaps 
by  the  sight  of  these  familiar  objects  in  a  strange 
land. 

"  If  you'm  bound  for  Troy,  you  may  so  well  let 
me  carry  it,  miss.  There's  a  terrible  steep  hill  to 
go  up,  and  a  pound  or  two's  weight  won't  make  no 
difference  to  what  I  got  here." 

She  had  taken  uj)  her  bag  resolutely  and  was 
moving  on.  The  young  man — it  was  most  awkward 
— also  moved  on,  and  in  step  with  her.  She  com- 
pressed her  lip,  wondering  how  to  hint  that  she  did 
not  desire  his  company.  A  glance  told  her  that  he 
was  entirely  without  giiilc,  that  he  had  made  his 
offer  in  mere  good-nature.  How  might  she  dismiss 
him  and  yet  avoid  hurting  his  feelings? 

"  They  argued  me  down  at  the  station,"  he  went 
on.  "  Would  have  it  the  traps  couldn'  possibly  be  in 
the  van.  But  I  wasn't  going  to  have  my  walk  for 
nothing  if  I  could  help  it.  '  Give  me  leave  to  look,' 
said  I ;  and  I  was  right,  you  see !  " 

He  nodded  his  head  as  triumphantly  as  his  bur- 
den allowed.  It  weighed  him  down,  and  the  stoop 
gave  his  eyes,  when  he  smiled,  an  innocent  roguish 
slant.     Hester  noted  that  he  wore  rings  in  his  brown 

126 


HESTER    ARRIVES 

ears,  and  somehow  these  ornaments  made  him  appear 
the  more  boyish. 

"  But  what  are  you  doing  with  a  blackboard  and 
easel  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  They're  for  old  Mother  Butson.  She  lives  with 
my  mother  and  keeps  school.  Tidy  little  outlay  for 
her,  all  this  parcel!  but  she  must  move  with  the 
times,  poor  soul." 

"  Then  hers  is  not  a  Board  School  1 — since  she 
is  buying  these  things  for  herself." 

"  Board  School  ?  Kot  a  bit  of  it.  You're  right 
there,  miss:  we're  the  Opposition."  He  laughed, 
showing  two  rows  of  white  regular  teeth. 

"  Are  you  a  teacher  too  ?  " 

She  had  no  sooner  asked  the  question  than  she 
knew  it  to  be  ridiculous.  A  teacher,  in  blue  jersey 
and  earrings !     He  laughed,  more  merrily  than  ever. 

"  Me,  miss  ?  My  name's  Trevarthen — Tom  Tre- 
varthen :  and  I'm  a  seaman ;  ordinary  till  last  voyage, 
but  now  A.B."  He  said  this  with  pride:  of  what 
it  meant  she  had  not  the  ghost  of  a  notion.  "  A  man 
don't  need  scholarship  in  my  way  o'  life ;  but,  being 
on  shore  for  a  spell,  you  see,  miss,  I'm  helping  the 
old  gal  to  fight  the  School  Board.  'Tis  hard  on 
her,  too." 

"  What  is  hard  ?  "  Hester  asked,  her  professional 
interest  aroused. 

127 


SHINING    FERKY 

"  Why,  to  have  the  hread  taken  out  of  her  month 
at  her  time  of  life.  Slie  sent  in  an  application,  but 
the  Board  wouldn't  look  at  it.  Old  Rosewarne,  they 
say,  had  another  teacher  in  his  eye,  and  got  her  ap- 
pointed— some  up-country  body.  Ne'er  a  man  on 
the  Board  had  the  pluck  to  say  '  Bo '  when  he  opened 
his  mouth." 

"  RoseAvarne  ?  "     Hester  came  to  a  halt. 

"  That  bag  is  too  heavy  for  you,  miss.  Hand  it 
over — do'ee,  now  !  " 

"  Are  you  talking  of  Mr.  John  Rosewarne  ?  " 

"  Ay,  Rosewarne  of  Hall — he  did  it.  If  you  was 
a  friend  of  his,  miss,  I  beg  your  pardon;  but  a  rasp- 
in'  old  tyrant  he  was.  Sing  small,  yon  might  be  let 
oif  and  call  yourself  lucky ;  stand  up  to  'en,  and  he'd 
have  you  down  and  your  face  in  the  dust  if  it  cost 
a  fortune." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  please !  "  Hester  commanded, 
halting  for  breath.  They  had  reached  a  steep  hill, 
and  the  t;ill  hedgerows  shut  (uit  the  sea;  but  its  far 
roar  sounded  in  her  ears.  She  nodded  toAvards  the 
bundle  (in  his  shoulders.  "Are  those  things  meant 
to  fight  the  new  schoolmistress  ?  " 

"  That's  of  it.  The  old  woman  has  pluck  enough 
for  a  hundred.  But,  as  I  tell  her,  she  may  get  the 
billet  now,  after  all,  since  the  old  fellow's  gone,  and 
Mr.  Sam — they  do  say — favours  the  Dissenters." 

128 


HESTER    ARRIVES 

"  I  don't  understand.     '  Gone  '  ?    Who  is  gone  ?  " 

"  Whv,  old  Rosewarne.    Who  else  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  telling  me  that  Mr.  Rosewarne  is 

dead  ? " 

"  Beggin'  your  pardon,  miss — but  he's  dead,  and 
buried  last  Saturday.  There!  I  han't  upset  you, 
have  I?  I  took  it  for  certain  that  everyone  knew. 
And  you  seeming  an  acquaintance  of  his,  and  being, 
so  to  speak,  in  black  " — 

"  But  I  heard  from  him  only  last  Thursday — 
less  than  a  week  ago !  "  Hester's  hand  went  to  her 
pocket.  To  be  sure  she  possessed,  with  Rosewame's 
letter,  a  second  from  a  Mr.  Peter  Benny,  acknowl- 
edging her  acceptance  of  the  post,  and  promising  that 
she  should  be  met  on  her  arrival,  on  the  day  and 
hour  suggested  by  her.  But  Mr.  Benny's  letter  had 
been  cautiously  worded,  and  said  nothing  of  his  mas- 
ter's death. 

The  young  sailor  had  come  to  a  halt  with  her, 
evidently  puzzled,  and  for  the  fourth  time  at  least 
was  holding  out  a  hand  to  relieve  her  of  her  bag. 

"  No  !  "  she  said.  "  You  must  walk  on,  please ; 
I  am  the  new  schoolmistress." 

It  took  him  aback,  but  not  in  the  way  she  had 
expected.  His  face  became  grave  at  once,  but  still 
wore  its  puzzled  look,  into  which  by  degrees  there 
crept  another  look  of  pity. 

129 


SHINING    FERRY 

"You  can't  know  what  yoii'ni  doing  then,  miss; 
I'm  snre  of  that.  They  haven't  tohl  you.  She's  a 
very  old  woman,  and  'tis  all  the  hread  she  has." 

lie  stared  at  her,  seeking  reassurance. 

"  You  are  certainly  right,  so  far :  I  have  tumbled, 
it  seems,  into  mysteries.  But  for  aught  I  know,  I 
am  the  new  schoolmistress,  and  we  are  enemies,  it 
seems.     Now  will  you  walk  ahead,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

Still  he  paused,  considering  her  face. 

"  But  if  you  knew  what  a  shame  it  is !  "  he  stam- 
mered.   "And  you  look  good,  too  !  " 

With  a  movement  of  the  hand  she  beffired  him 
to  leave  her  and  walk  ahead.  But  as  she  did  so 
she  caught  sound  of  hoofs  and  wheels  on  the  road 
above.  They  drew  apart  to  let  the  vehicle  pass,  she 
to  one  side  of  the  road,  the  young  sailor  to  the  other. 
A  light  spring-cart  came  lurching  round  the  corner; 
and  its  driver,  glancing  from  one  to  the  other,  drew 
rein  sharply,  dragging  the  rough-coated  cob  back  with 
a  slither  on  the  splash-board,  and  bringing  him  to  a 
stand  between  them. 


130 


CHAPTEE   IX 


ME.  Samuel's  policy 


Hester's  letter  accepting  the  teacliership  had  put 
Mr.  Sam  in  something  of  a  quandary.  It  came  ad- 
dressed, of  course,  to  his  father,  and  as  his  father's 
heir  and  executor  he  had  opened  it. 

"  '  Hester  Marvin  '  ?  "  He  read  the  signature 
and  pondered,  pulling  his  ragged  whisker.  "  So  that 
was  the  name  on  the  letter  you  posted  ?  "  (No  ques- 
tion had  been  asked  about  it  at  the  inquest.) 

"  That  was  the  name,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Benny. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  How  did  my  father  come  to  se- 
lect her  ?  " 

Mr.  Benny  had  not  a  notion. 

"  By  her  tone,  they  must  have  been  pretty  well 
acquainted,"  continued  Mr.  Sam,  still  pondering. 
"  She  signs  herself  '  Yours  very  truly,'  and  hopes  he 
has  been  feeling  better  since  his  return.  You  know 
absolutely  nothing  about  her  ?  " 

"  Absolutely  nothing,  sir." 

"  I  wish  " — Mr.  Sam  began,  but  checked  him- 
self. What  he  really  wished  was  that  ]\Ir.  Benny 
had  used  less  haste  in  posting  the  letter — had  inter- 

131 


SHINING    FERRY 

cepted  it,  in  short.  But  he  did  not  like  to  say  this 
aloud.  "  I  wish,"  he  went  on,  "  I  knew  exactly  what 
tlie  old  man  wrote;  how  far  it  connnitted  us,  I  mean." 
And  hy  "  ns  "  again,  he  meant  the  Board  of  ^lan- 
agers,  ujiou  which  he  had  no  donht  of  heiiig  elected 
to  replace  his  father. 

"  You  may  be  sure,  sir,"  answered  ]\Ir.  Benny, 
"  that  he  made  her  a  definite  offer.  My  dear  master 
was  never  one  to  make  two  bites  of  a  cherry." 

"  Well,  \vc  nnist  let  her  come,  and  find  out,  if  we 
can,  how  far  we're  committed.  Better  write  at  once 
and  fix  a  date — say  next  Thursday.  You  needn't  say 
anything  about  my  father's  death.  Just  make  it  a  for- 
mal letter,  and  sign  your  own  name;  you  may  add 
'  Clerk  of  the  School  Board.'  " 

"  Can  I  rightly  do  that,  sir  ?  "  Mr.  Benny  hesi- 
tated. 

"  Why  not  ?  You  are  the  clerk,  aren't  you  ?  As 
clerk,  you  answer  her  simply  in  the  way  of  business. 
There's  no  need  to  call  a  meeting  of  the  Board  over 
such  a  trifle ;  though,  if  you  wish,  I'll  explain  it  per- 
sonally to  the  Managers.  We  may  have  a  dozen  cases 
like  this  before  we  get  into  working  order — small  odds 
and  ends  which  require,  nevertheless,  to  be  dealt  with 
promptly.  We  must  do  what's  best,  and  risk  small 
irregularities." 

Mr.  Benny,  not  quite  convinced,  fell  to  compos- 

132 


MK.    SAMUEL'S    POLICY 

ing  his  letter.  Mr.  Sam  leaned  back  in  bis  cbair  and 
mused,  tapping  bis  long  teeth  with  a  paper-knife.  lie 
wondered  what  kind  of  a  woman  this  Hester  Marvin 
might  be,  and  of  what  religious  "  persuasion."  In  a 
week  or  two  be  would  succeed  to  his  father's  place 
on  the  Board.  There  would  be  no  opposition,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  natural  and  right  that  there  should 
be  none.  Was  he  not  by  far  the  richest  man  in  the 
parish  ?  Samuel  Rosewarne  studied  his  Bible  de- 
voutly; but  he  did  not  seek  it  for  anything  which 
might  stand  in  the  way  of  his  own  will  or  his  private 
advantage.  When  he  came  upon  a  text  condemning 
riches,  for  instance,  or  definitely  bidding  him  to  for- 
give a  debtor,  he  told  himself  that  Christ  was  speak- 
ing figuratively,  or  was,  at  any  rate,  not  to  be  taken 
literally,  and  with  that  he  passed  on  to  something 
more  comfortable.  He  did  not,  of  course,  really  be- 
lieve this,  but  he  had  to  tell  himself  so ;  for  otherwise 
he  would  have  to  alter  his  whole  way  of  life,  or  con- 
fess himself  an  irreligious  man.  But  he  was,  on  the 
contrary,  a  highly  religious  man,  and  he  had  no  dis- 
position to  alter  his  life. 

He  hated  the  Church  of  England,  too,  because  he 
perceived  it  to  be  full  of  abuses  ;  and  ho  supposed  that 
the  best  way  to  counteract  these  abuses  was  to  put  a 
spoke  in  the  Church's  wheel  wherever  and  whenever 
he  could.     In  this  he  but  copied  the  adversary — Par- 

133 


SHINING   FERRY 

son  Endioolt,  for  exanii)lc — who  hated  Dissent,  per- 
ceiving tliat  it  rested  on  self-assertiveness,  enconraging 
nnlearned  men  to  he  opinionative  in  (>rror.  Perceiv- 
ing this,  Parson  Endicott  snpposed  himself  to  he  com- 
bating error  hy  snatching  at  every  advantage,  great 
or  small,  whifh  exalted  the  snpremacy  of  his  Chnrch 
and  left  Dissent  the  worse  in  any  bargain.  To  neither 
of  these  men,  hotli  confident  in  their  ''  canse,"  did  it 
occur  for  a  moment  to  leave  that  cause  to  the  energy 
of  its  own  truth. 

The  parson,  however,  was  not  likely  to  bring  for- 
ward an  opposition  candidate ;  for  that  would  conflict 
with  a  second  principle  of  conduct,  the  principle  of 
siding  with  the  rich  on  all  possible  occasions.  By 
doing  this  in  his  small  way  he  furthered  at  once  the 
cause  of  stable  government — that  is  to  say,  the  rule 
of  the  poor  by  the  wealthy — and  the  cause  of  his  own 
Church,  which  (he  fully  believed)  in  these  times  de- 
pends for  existence  upon  mendicancy.  Therefore  Mr, 
Samuel  would  certainly  be  elected ;  and  counting  on 
this,  he  f(>lt  sorry  to  have  missed  the  chance  of  giving 
the  teachership,  by  his  casting  vote,  to  one  of  his  own 
sect — some  broad-minded,  undenominational  person 
who  would  teach  the  little  ones  to  abhor  all  that  sa- 
voured of  popery.  To  be  sure,  this  TTester  Marvin 
might  be  such  a  person.  On  the  othei'  liiiiid,  his  father 
bad  been  capable  of  choosing  some  Jew,  lurk,  infidel, 

134 


MR.    SAMUEL'S    POLICY 

or  heretic,  or  even  papist.  It  remained  to  discover, 
first,  what  kind  of  woman  this  Hester  Marvin  might 
be ;  and  next,  whether  or  not  the  terms  of  her  engage- 
ment amounted  to  a  contract. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Sam,  as  Mr.  Benny  sat 
pursing  his  lips  over  the  letter,  "  you  take  in  a  lodger 
now  and  then,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Now  and  then,"  Mr.  Benny  assented,  looking 
up  and  biting  the  end  of  his  quill.  He  did  not  under- 
stand the  drift  of  the  question.  "  Now  and  then, 
sir,"  he  repeated ;  "  when  my  wife's  health  allows." 

"  Then  add  a  line,  telling  her  she  shall  be  met 
at  the  station,  and  that  you  will  put  her  up." 

"  But,  Mr.  Samuel,  I  could  scarcely  bring  myself 
to  offer  "— 

"  Tut,  man ;  you  don't  ask  her  to  pay.  I'll  see 
to  that.  Merely  say  that  you  hope  she  will  be  your 
guest  until  she  finds  suitable  lodgings." 

"  That  is  very  kind  of  you,  sir." 

"  Not  at  all."  He  reached  out  a  hand  for  Mr. 
Benny's  letter,  read  it  through,  and  nodded.  "  Yes, 
that  will  do;  seal  it  up  and  let  it  go  by  next  post. 
My  father  had  great  confidence  in  you,  Benny." 

"  He  ever  did  me  that  great  honour,  sir." 

"  I  hope  we  shall  get  on  together  equally  well.  I 
daresay  we  shall." 

"  It  comforts  me  to  licar  you  say  so,  sir.     When 

1:35 


SHINING    FERRY 

a  man  gets  up  in  years — with  a  long  family  depend- 
ing on  him  " — 

"  Of  course,  if  this  Miss  Marvin  should  happen 
to  give  you  further  particulars  of  my  father's  offer, 
so  much  the  better/'  said  Mr.  Sam  negligently. 

As  the  little  man  went  down  the  hill  towards  the 
ferry  he  was  pounced  upon  by  Mother  Butson,  who 
regularly  now  w^atched  for  him  and  waylaid  him  on 
his  way  home. 

"  Hold  hard,  Peter  Benny — it's  no  use  your  try- 
ing to  slip  by  now  !  " 

"  I  wasn't,  Mrs.  Butson  ;  indeed,  now,  I  wasn't !  " 
he  protested;  though  indeed  this  waylaying  had  be- 
come a  torment  to  him. 

"  Well,  and  what  liave  they  decided  ?  "  The  poor 
old  soul  asked  it  fiercely,  yet  trembled  while  waiting 
for  his  answer,  almost  hoping  that  he  would  have 
none. 

Mr.  Benny  longed  to  say  that  nothing  was  de- 
cided ;  but  the  letter  in  his  ])ocket  seemed  to  be  burn- 
ing against  his  ribs.     He  was  a  truthful  man. 

"  It  don't  lie  witli  mo,  j\Irs.  Butson;  I'm  only  the 
clerk,  and  take  my  orders.  But  I  must  warn  you 
not  to  1)('  too  hopeful.  The  person  that  Mr.  Rosewarne 
selected  will  come  down  and  be  interviewed.  That's 
only  right  and  proper." 

136 


MR.    SAMUEL'S    POLICY 

All  the  village  knew  by  this  time  what  had  hap- 
pened at  the  last  Board  meeting. 

"  Coming,  is  she  ?  Then  'tis  true  what  I've  heard, 
that  the  old  varmint  went  straight  from  the  meetin' 
and  wrote  off  to  the  woman,  and  that  the  hand  of  God 
struck  'en  dead  in  his  chair.  Say  what  you  will  " — 
the  cracked  voice  shrilled  up  triumphantly — "  'tis  a 
judgment !     What's  the  woman's  name  ?  " 

"  That  I'm  not  allowed  to  tell  vou.  And  look 
here,  Mrs.  Butson — you  mustn't  use  such  talk  of  my 
poor  dead  master;  indeed  you  mustn't."  He  looked 
past  her  appealingly  and  at  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  who  had 
come  to  her  doorway  to  listen. 

"  I  said  what  I  chose  to  'en  while  he  was  alive, 
and  I'll  say  what  I  choose  now.  You  was  always  a 
poor  span'el,  Peter  Benny ;  but  John  Rosewarne  never 
fo'ced  me  to  lick  his  boots.  '  Poor  dead  master!  '  " 
she  mimicked.  "  Iss  fay  l^dead  enough  now,  and 
poor,  he  that  ground  the  poor !  "  At  once  she  began 
to  fawn.  "  But  Mr.  Sam  '11  see  justice  done.  You'll 
speak  a  word  for  me  to  Mr.  Sam  ?  He's  a  professin' 
Christian,  and  like  as  not  when  this  woman  shows 
herself  she'll  turn  out  to  be  some  red-hot  atheist  or 
Jesuit.  To  bring  the  like  o'  they  here  was  just  the 
dirty  trick  that  old  heathen  of  yours  would  enjoy. 
Some  blasj)hemy  it  must  ha'  been,  or  the  hand  o' 
God'd  never  have  struck  'en  as  it  did." 

137 


SHINING    FEKEY 

"  Folks  are  saying,"  put  in  IVfrs.  Trevarthen  from 
the  doorway,  "  that  Sail  hero  ill-wished  'eii.  But  she 
didn't.  'Twas  his  own  sins  compassed  his  end.  Look 
to  your  ways,  Peter  Benny  !  Your  master  was  an  un- 
believer and  an  oppressor,  and  now  he's  in  hell-fire." 

Mr.  Benny  put  his  hands  to  his  ears  and  ran  from 
these  terrible  women.  For  the  moment  they  had  both 
believed  what  they  said,  and  yet  old  Kosewarne's  be- 
lief or  unbelief  had  nothing  to  do  with  their  hatred. 
They  gloated  because  lie  had  been  removed  in  the  act 
of  doing  that  which  would  certainly  impoverish  them. 
They,  neither  less  nor  more  than  Mr.  Sam  and  Par- 
son Endicott,  made  identical  the  will  of  God  with 
their  own  wants. 

Peter  Benny  as  he  crossed  the  ferry  would  have 
been  uneasier  and  unhappier  had  he  understood  Mr. 
Sam's  parting  words.  He  had  not  understood  them 
because  he  had  never  laid  a  scheme  against  man,  wo- 
man, or  child  in  his  life.  Still  he  was  uneasy  and 
unhappy  enough:  first,  because  it  hurt  him  tliat  any- 
one should  speak  as  these  old  women  had  spoken  of 
his  dead  master ;  next,  because  he  really  felt  sorry  for 
them,  and  was  carrying  a  letter  to  their  hurt ;  again 
because,  in  spite  of  :Mr.  Sam's  reassuring  words,  he 
could  not  shake  off  a  sense  of  having  exceeded  his 
duties  by  signing  that  letter  with.mt  consulting  the 
Board;  and  lastly,  because  in  his  confusion  he  had 

138 


MR.    SAMUEL'S    POLICY 

forgotten  his  wife's  state  of  healthy  and  must  break 
to  the  poor  woman,  just  arisen  from  bed  and  nursing 
a  three-weeks'-old  baby,  that  he  had  invited  a  lodger. 
ISTow  that  he  came  to  think  of  it,  there  was  not  a 
spare  bedroom  in  the  house  ! 


139 


CHAPTER    X 

NUNCEY 

The  driver  of  the  spring-cart  was  a  brown' 
skinned,  Lright-eyed,  and  exceedingly  pretty  damsel 
of  eighteen  or  twenty,  in  a  pink  print  frock  with  a 
large  crimson  rose  pinned  in  its  bodice,  and  a  pink 
sun-bonnet,  nndcr  the  ])ont  of  which  her  dark  hair 
curtained  her  temples  in  two  ample  rippling  bands. 

"  Why,  hullo !  "  She  reined  up.  Hester  and 
the  young  sailor  had  fallen  apart  to  let  her  pass, 
and  from  her  perch  she  stared  down  from  one  side 
of  the  road  to  the  other  with  a  puzzled,  jolly  smile. 
"  Mornin',  Tom  !  " 

"  Mornin',  Nuncey  !  " 

"  Sakes  alive !  What  be  carryin'  there  'pen  your 
back?" 

"  School  furnitcher." 

The  girl's  eyes  wandered  from  the  bundle  to 
Hester,  and  grew  wide  with  surmise. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  you're  the  new  school- 
mistress !  " 

140 


NUI^CEY 

"  Yes,  I'm  Hester  Marvin." 

"  And  I  pictered  'ee  a  frump !  But,  my  dear 
soul,"  she  asked  with  sudden  solemnity,  "  what  makes 
'ee  do  it  ?  " 

"  Do  what  ?  " 

"  Why,  teach  school  ?  I  al'ays  reckoned  that  a 
trade  for  old  persons — toteling  poor  bodies,  'most  past 
any  use  except  to  worrit  the  children." 

"  And  so  'tis,"  put  in  the  young  sailor  angrily. 

"Han't  been  crossed  in  love,  have  'ee?  But 
there !  what  be  I  clackin'  about,  when  better  fit  I  was 
askin'  your  pardon  for  bein'  so  late  ?  I'm  sent  to  fetch 
you  over  to  Troy.  Ought  to  have  been  here  more'n 
a  half-hour  ago ;  but  when  you've  five  children  to 
wash  an'  dress  an'  get  breakfast  for  an'  see  their  boots 
is  shined,  and  after  that  to  catch  the  boss  and  put  'n 
to  cart — well,  you'll  have  to  forgive  it.  That's  your 
luggage  Tom's  carryin',  I  s'pose  ?— and  a  fimny 
passel  of  traps  school  teachers  travel  with,  I  will 
say.  You  must  be  clever,  though ;  else  you  couldn't 
have  coaxed  Tom  Trevarthen  to  shoulder  such  a 
load.  He  wouldn't  lift  his  little  finger  for  me." 
She  shot  this  unrighteous  shaft  with  a  mischievous 
side-glance,  and  laughed.  Slie  had  beautiful  teeth, 
and  laughing  became  her  mightily. 

"  But  that  is  not  my  luggage." 

"  IS^ot   your    luggage  !      Then   where —      Hullo ! 

141 


have  you  two  been  qiiarrellin'  ?  Well,  I  never !  You 
can't  have  lost  much  time  about  it." 

"  I  left  my  trunk  at  the  station,"  Hester  went 
on,  flushing  yet  redder  with  annoyance. 

"  And  this  here  belongs  to  Mother  Butson,"  de- 
clared Tom  Trevarthen,  red  also.  "  I'm  fetcliin'  it 
home  for  her." 

"  Then  take  and  pitch  it  into  the  tail  of  the 
trap;  and  you,  my  dear,  hand  up  your  bag  and  climb 
up  alongside  o'  me.  We'll  drive  back  to  station,  fetch 
your  trunk,  and  be  back  in  time  to  overtake  Tom 
at  the  top  o'  the  hill  and  give  him  a  lift  home. 
There's  plenty  room  for  three  on  the  seat — that  is, 
by  squeezin'  a  bit." 

"  You're  very  kind,  Nuncey,"  said  Tom  Trevar- 
then sullenly.  ''  But  I'll  not  take  a  lift  alongside  o' 
she;  and  I'll  not  trouble  you  with  my  load,  neither." 

"  Please  yourself,  you  foolish  mortal,  you.  But 
— I  declare  !    You  must  have  had  a  tiff !  " 

"  No  tiff  at  all,"  corrected  Tom,  sturdily  wrath- 
ful. "  It's  despise  her  I  do — comin'  here  and  drivin' 
an  old  'ooman  to  the  workhouse !  " 

He  turned  on  his  heel  and  trudged  away  stub- 
bornly up  the  hill. 

Nuncey  gazed  back  at  him  for  a  moment  over  her 
shoulder. 

"  Never  saw  Tom  in  such  a  tear  in  all  my  life," 

142 


NUNCEY 

she  commented  cheerfully.  "  Take  'en  all  the  week 
round,  you  couldn't  find  a  better-natered  boy.  Well, 
jump  up,  my  dear,  and  we'll  fit  and  get  your 
trunk.  He  may  be  cured  of  his  sulks  by  time  we 
overtake  'en." 

Undoubtedly  Hester  had  excuses  enough  for  feel- 
ing hurt  and  annoyed;  yet  what  mainly  hurt  and 
annoyed  her  (though  she  would  not  confess  it)  was 
that  this  sailor  and  this  girl  had  each  taken  her  as 
one  on  equal  terms  with  themselves.  She  was  a  sen- 
sible girl,  by  far  too  sensible  to  nurse  on  second 
thoughts  a  conceit  that  she  was  their  superior  simply 
because  she  spoke  better  English.  Yet  habit  had 
taught  her  to  expect  some  degree  of  deference  from 
those  who  spoke  incorrectly ;  and  we  are  all  touchier 
upon  our  vaguely  reasoned  claims  than  upon  those 
of  which  we  have  perfect  assurance. 

"  J'p,  Pleasant !  "  Nuncey  called  to  the  grey 
horse,  flicking  him  lightly  with  the  whip.  The  ill- 
balanced  trap  seesawed  down  the  slope,  and  soon  was 
spinning  along  the  cliff-road,  across  which  the  wind 
blew  with  such  force  that  Hester  caught  at  her  hat. 

"  Never  mind  a  bit  of  breeze,  my  dear.  And  as 
for  the  touch  of  damp,  'tis  nobbut  the  pride  o'  the 
mornin'.  All  for  heat  and  pilchar's,  as  the  saying  is : 
we  shall  have  it  broiling  hot  afore  noon.  Now  I 
come  to  think  of  it,  'tis  high  time  we  made  our  in- 

143 


SHINING    FERRY 

troductions.  I'm  Nnncoy  Bennj — that's  short  for 
Annunciation.  This  here  hoss  and  trap  belongs  to 
my  mother.  She's  a  regrater  when  in  health ;  but 
there's  a  baby  come.  That  makes  eleven  of  us. 
You'll  find  us  a  houseful." 

"  Your  father  was  kind  enough  to  oflFcr  me  " — 
began  Hester. 

"  Iss,"  broke  in  ISTuncey ;  "  father's  kind,  what- 
ever else  he  may  be.  As  for  consider  in'  where  to 
stow  you,  that  never  crossed  his  head.  You  mustn't 
think,  my  dear,  that  you  hain't  welcome.  Only — 
well,  I  may  so  well  get  it  over  soon  as  late — ^you'll 
have  to  put  up  with  a  bed  in  the  room  with  me. 
Shall  you  mind  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  shall  not  mind,"  said  Hester,  con- 
quered at  once. 

"  Well,  that's  uncommon  nice  of  you  ;  and  I  don't 
mind  tellin'  'ee  'tis  the  second  load  you've  a-lifted  off 
my  mind.  Por,  to  start  with,  I  made  sure  you  was 
goin'  to  be  a  frump." 

"  But  why  ?  " 

Nuncey  had  no  time  to  explain,  for  they  were 
now  arrived  at  tlie  stationmastcr's  cottage.  The 
stationmaster  himself  welcomed  them  at  the  door, 
wiping  his  mouth. 

"  You'll  step  in  and  have  a  dish  of  tea,  the  both 
of  you.    It'll  take  off  the  edge  of  the  mornin'.' 

144 


.'  " 


NUNCEY 

ISTuncey  declined,  after  a  glance  at  Hester,  and 
at  once  fell  to  discussing  the  weather  with  the 
stationmaster  while  he  hoisted  in  the  trunk.  Two 
of  Hester's  earliest  discoveries  in  this  strange  land 
were  that  everyone  talked  about  the  weather,  and 
everyone  addressed  everyone  else  as  "  My  dear." 

"Well,  so  long!"  said  the  stationmaster. 
"  Wind's  going  round  wi'  the  sun,  I  see,  same  as 
yesterday.  We're  in  for  a  hot  spell,  you  mark  my 
words." 

"  So  long !  "  Nuncey  shook  the  reins,  and  they 
started  again.  "  Is  that  how  sleeves  are  wearin',  up 
the  country  ?  "  she  asked,  after  two  or  three  glances 
at  Hester's  jacket. 

"  They  are  worn  fuller  than  this,  mostly,"  Hester 
answered  gravely.  "  But  you  mustn't  take  me  for 
an  authority." 

'^  I  can  see  so  far  into  a  brick  wall  as  most. 
Don't  tell  me !  You're  one  to  think  twice  about  your 
clothes,  for  all  you  look  so  modest.  Boots  like  yours 
cost  more  than  I  can  spend  on  mine  in  a  month  o' 
Sundays  ;  iss,  and  a  trifle  o'  vanity  thrown  in.  You've 
a  very  pretty  foot — an'  I  like  your  face — an'  your 
way  o'  dressin',  if  you  weren't  so  sad-coloured. 
What's  that  for,  niakin'  so  bold  ?  " 

"  It's  for  my  father." 

"  There  now,  I'm  sorry  I — Always  was  a  clumsy 

145 


SHINING    FERRY 

fool,  and  always  will  be.  I  thought  it  might  be 
for  old  Rosewarne,  you  bein'  hand-in-glove  with 
him." 

"  But  I  scarcely  kneAv  him.  It  was  only  just 
now  I  heard  the  news  " —  Hester  broke  off,  colour- 
ing again  with  annoyance.  What  did  these  people 
mean,  that  they  persisted  in  taking  for  granted  her 
complicity  in  some  mysterious  plot  ? 

By  and  by,  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  they  overtook 
the  young  sailor. 

"Got  over  your  sulks,  Tom?"  inquired  Nuncey 
cheerfully.  "  If  so,  climb  up  and  be  sociable — 
there's  plenty  room." 

But  Tom  shook  his  head  without  answering, 
though  he  drew  close  to  the  hedge  to  let  the  trap 
pass.  It  is  difficult  to  look  dignified  with  a  black- 
board, an  easel,  and  a  coloured  globe  on  one's  back. 
The  globe  absurdly  reminded  Hester  of  a  picture  of 
Atlas  in  one  of  her  schoolbooks,  and  she  could  not 
help  a  smile.  A  moment  later  she  would  have  given 
all  her  pocket-money  to  recall  that  smile,  for  he  had 
glanced  up,  glowering,  and  observed  it. 

Nuncey  laughed  outright. 

"  But  all  the  same,"  she  remarked  meditatively  as 
they  drove  on,  "  I  like  the  lad  for  't.  'Tisn'  everyone 
would  do  so  much  for  the  sake  of  an  old  'ooman  that 
never  has  a  good  word  to  fling  at  nobody,  and  maybe 

146 


NUNCEY 

spanked  'en  bine  when  he  was  a  tacker  and  went  to 
school  wi'  her.  He's  terrible  simple ;  and  decent, 
too,  for  a  sailor.  I  reckon  there's  a  many  think 
Mother  Butson  hardly  used  that  wouldn't  crack  their 
backs  for  her  as  he's  a-doing." 

"  He  spoke  to  me,"  said  Hester,  "  quite  as  if  I 
were  doing  a  wickedness  in  coming— as  if,  at  least,  I 
was  selfish  and  unjust.  And  I  never  heard  of  this 
Mother  Butson  till  half  an  hour  ago !  Do  you  think 
I'm  unjust  ?  " 

"  Well,"  Nuncey  answered  judiciously,  "  if  any 
person  had  asked  me  that  an  hour  ago,  I'd  have 
agreed  with  Tom.  But  'tis  different  now  I've  seen 
your  face." 

!N^uncey  and  the  stationmaster  were  wise  weather 
prophets.  Here  on  the  uplands  the  grey  veil  of 
morning  fell  apart,  and  dissolved  so  suddenly  that 
before  Hester  had  time  to  wonder  the  miracle  was 
accomplished.  A  flood  of  sunshine  broke  over  the 
ripening  cornfields  to  right  and  left ;  the  song  of 
larks  rang  forth  almost  with  a  shout ;  beyond  the 
golden  ridges  of  the  wheat  the  grey  vapour  faded  as 
breath  off  a  mirror,  and  lo  !  a  clear  line  divided  the 
turquoise  sky  from  a  sea  of  intensest  iris-blue.  As 
she  watched  the  transformation  her  heart  gave  a 
lift,  and  the  past  few  hours  fell  from  her  like  an 

147 


SHINING    FERRY 

evil  dream.  The  stuffy  compartment,  the  blear-eyed 
lamp,  the  train's  roar  and  rattle,  the  forlorn  arrival 
on  the  windy  platform — all  slipped  away  into  a 
remote  past.  She  had  passed  the  gates  of  fear  and 
entered  an  enchanted  land. 

As  she  looked  abroad  npon  it  she  marvelled  at  a 
hundred  differences  between  it  and  her  native  Mid- 
lands. It  was  wilder — infinitely  wilder — than  War- 
wickshire, and  at  the  same  time  less  unkempt;  far 
more  savage  in  outline,  yet  in  detail  sober  almost  to 
tidiness.  It  seemed  to  acknowledge  the  hand  of  some 
great  unknown  gardener;  and  this  gardener  was,  of 
course,  the  sea-breeze  now  filling  her  lungs  and  brac- 
ing her  strength.  The  shaven,  landward-bending 
thorns  and  hollies,  the  close-trimmed  hedgerow,  the 
clean-swept  highroad,  alike  proclaimed  its  tireless  at- 
tentions. It  favoured  its  own  plants,  too — the  tama- 
risk on  the  hedge,  the  fuchsia  and  myrtle  in  the 
cottage  garden.  As  the  spring-cart  nid-nodded  down 
the  hill  towards  Troy,  the  grey  roofs  of  the  town  broke 
upon  Hester's  sight  beyond  a  cloud  of  fuchsia  blos- 
soms in  a  garden  at  the  angle  of  the  road. 

So  steep  was  the  hill,  and  so  closely  these  roofs 
and  chimneys  huddled  against  it,  that  Hester  leaned 
back  with  a  catch  of  the  breath  tliat  set  Nuncey 
laughing.  For  the  moment  she  verily  supposed  her- 
self on  the  edge  of  a   precipice.      She  caught  one 

148 


NUNCEY 

glimpse  of  a  blue  water  and  the  masts  of  shipping, 
and  clutched  at  the  cart-rail  as  the  old  grey  began 
to  slither  at  a  business-like  jog-trot  down  a  street  so 
narrow  that,  to  make  way  for  them,  passers-by  on 
foot  ran  hastily  to  the  nearest  doorways,  whence  one 
and  all  nodded  good-naturedly  at  Xuncey.  Of  some 
houses  the  doors  were  reached  by  steep  flights  of 
steps  tunnelled  through  the  solid  rock;  of  others  by 
wooden  stairways  leading  to  balconies  painted  blue 
or  green  and  adorned  with  pot-plants — geraniums, 
fuchsias,  lemon-verbenas — on  ledges  imminent  over 
Hester's  head.  The  most  of  the  passers-by  were 
women  carrying  pails  of  water,  or  country  folks  with 
baskets  of  market  stuff.  The  whole  street  seemed  to 
be  cleaning  up  and  taking  in  provisions  for  the  day, 
and  all  amid  a  buzz  of  public  gossip,  one  housewife 
pausing  on  her  balcony  as  she  shook  a  duster,  and 
leaning  over  to  discuss  market  prices  with  her  neigh- 
bour chaffering  below.  The  cross-fire  of  talk  died 
down  as  the  dealers  dispersed,  snatching  up  their 
wares  from  under  the  wheels  of  the  spring-cart,  while 
the  women  took  long,  silent  stock  of  Hester's  appear- 
ance and  dress.  Behind  her  it  broke  forth  again, 
louder  than  ever. 

At  the  foot  of  the  hill  they  swung  round  a  cor- 
ner, and  passing  a  public-house  and  the  rails  of  the 
parish  church,  threaded  their  way  round  two  more 

149 


SHINING    FEKRY 

comers,  and  entered  a  street  scarcely  less  narrow  than 
the  other,  but  level.  Here  Niincey  drew  np  before 
an  ope  through  which  Hester  caught  another  glimpse 
of  blue-green  water.    Thev  had  arrived, 

A  grinning  lad  lifted  out  Hester's  trunk  and 
bore  it  down  the  ojie  to  a  green-painted  doorway, 
where  a  rosy-faced,  extremely  solemn  child  stared 
out  on  the  world  over  a  green-painted  board,  fixed 
across  with  the  evident  purpose  of  confining  him  to 
the  house.  Having  despatched  this  urchin  to  warn 
his  mother  that  "  the  furriner  was  come,"  the  lad 
heaved  his  burden  over  the  board,  dumped  it  down 
inside  with  a  bang,  and  returned,  still  grinning 
amiably,  to  take  charge  of  horse  and  cart. 

"  If  you  want  to  know  t'other  from  which  in  our 
family,"  said  ISTuncey,  "  there's  nothing  like  begin- 
ning early.     This  is  Shake." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  " 

"  Father  had  him  christened  Shakespeare,  but 
we  call  him  Shake  for  short.  It  sounds  more  natural, 
somehow.  And  this  here  is  Robert  Burns,"  she  went 
on,  leading  the  way  to  the  grecn-i)aint('d  doorway 
where  the  small  urchin  had  resumed  his  survey  of 
the  world  beyond  homo.  "  That's  another  of  father's 
inventions;  but  the  poor  cheold  pulled  down  the 
kettle  when  he  was  eighteen  months  old  and  scalded 
hisself  all  over,  so  he's  gone  by  his  full  name  ever 

150 


NUNCEY 

since.    Mother !  "  Nuncey  called  aloud,  stepping  over 
the  barrier.     "  Here's  the  new  school-teacher !  " 

A  middle-aged,  fair-haired  woman,  with  a  benigii 
but  puzzled  smile,  appeared  in  the  passage,  holding 
a  baby  at  the  breast. 

"  You're  kindly  welcome,  my  dear ;  that  is,  if 
you'll  excuse  my  hair  being  in  curl-papers.  Dear 
me,  now !  "  Mrs.  Benny  regarded  Hester  with  a 
look  of  honest  perplexity.  "  And  I  was  expectin'  an 
older-lookin'  person  altogether !  " 

Hester  followed  her  into  a  kitchen  which,  though 
untidy  and  dim,  struck  her  as  more  than  passably 
clean ;  and  it  crossed  her  mind  at  once  that  its  clean- 
liness must  be  due  to  Nuncey  and  its  untidiness  to 
Mrs.  Benny.  The  dimness  was  induced  by  a  crowd 
of  geraniums  in  the  window  and  a  large  bird-cage 
blocking  out  the  light  above  them.  A  second  large 
bird-cage  hung  from  a  rafter  in  the  middle  of  the 
ceiling. 

"  And  you've  been  travellin'  all  night  ?  You  must 
be  pinin'  for  a  dish  of  tea  " — 

But  here  a  voice  screamed  out  close  to  Hester's 
ear — 

"  What's  your  name  ?  What's  your  name  ?  Oli, 
rock  and  roll  me  over,  what's  your  darned  name  ?  " 

"  Hester  Marv — "  she  had  ])ooiin  to  answer  in  a 
fright,  when  Nuncey  broke  out  laughing. 

151 


SHINING   FEEEY 

"  Don't  'ee  be  afraid  of  'en — 'tis  only  the  parrot ;" 
and  Hester  laughed  too,  recovering  herself  at  sight 
of  a  grey  and  scarlet  bird  eyeing  her  with  angry 
inqnisitiveness  from  the  cage  over  Mrs.  Benny's 
head.  Her  gaze  wandered  apprehensively  to  the 
second  cage  by  the  window. 

"  Oh,  he  won't  speak !  "  Nuncey  assured  her. 
"He's  only  a  cat." 

"A  cat?" 

"  Iss.  He  ate  the  last  parrot  afore  this  one,  and 
I  reckon  he  died  of  it.  Father  had  'en  stuffed  and 
put  'en  in  the  cage  instead.  Just  go  and  look  for 
yourself;  he's  as  natural  as  life." 

"  I  was  thinkin'  a  ham  rasher,"  suggested  Mrs. 
Benny,  with  her  kindly,  unsettled  smile.  "  Nuncey, 
will  you  hold  the  baby,  or  shall  I  ? " 

"  You  give  me  the  frying-pan,"  commanded 
Nuncey,  turning  up  her  sleeves.  "  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  you,  Robert  Burns  ?  And  what's  become  of 
your  manners  ?  "  she  demanded  of  the  urchin  who  had 
followed  them  in  from  the  passage,  and  now  stood 
gripping  Hester's  skirts  and  gazing  up  at  her,  as  she 
in  turn  gazed  up  at  the  absurd  cat  in  the  parrot's  cage. 

"  What  great  eyes  she've  got !  "  exclaimed  Robert 
Burns  in  an  awe-stricken  voice. 

"  '  All  the  better  to  see  you  with,'  "  quoted  Hester, 
laughing  and  looking  down  on  him. 

152 


NUNCEY 

"  That's  in  Red  Riding  Hood.  She  knows  about 
stories  !  "    The  child  clapped  his  hands. 

"  Well,"  put  in  Mrs.  Benny,  seating  herself  with 
a  sigh  as. the  ham  rasher  began  to  frizzle,  "  you  may 
say  Avhat  you  like  about  education,  but  mothers  ought 
to  thank  the  Lord  for  it.  Sometimes,  as  'tis,  I  feel 
as  if  the  whole  world  was  on  my  shoulders,  and  I 
can't  be  responsible  for  it  any  longer ;  but  what 
would  happen  if  'twasn't  for  the  school  bell  at  nine 
o'clock  there's  no  knowing.  You'd  like  a  wash,  my 
dear  ?  " 

"  I  should  indeed,"  answered  Hester. 

"  Sometimes  I  loses  count,"  went  on  Mrs.  Benny, 
not  pursuing  her  invitation,  but  standing  with  a  far- 
away gaze  bent  upon  the  geraniums  in  the  window ; 
"  but  there's  eleven  of  'em,  and  three  buried,  and  five 
at  school  this  moment.  I  began  with  two  boys — 
two  years  between  each— and  then  came  N^uncey. 
There's  four  vears  between  her  and  Shake,  but  after 
that  you  may  allow  two  years  to  each  again,  quite 
like  Jacob's  ladder." 

"  Lord  bless  'ee,  mother !  "  interrupted  N^uncey, 
glancing  up  from  the  frying-pan,  "  she  don't  want  to 
be  told  I'm  singular.  She've  found  out  that  al- 
ready. Here's  the  kettle  boilin'- — fit  and  give  hor 
a  cup  of  tea,  and  take  her  upstairs.  'Tis  near  upon 
half-past  nine  already,   and    at  half-past  ten  father 

3  53 


SIITT^TING    FERRY 

was  to  1)0  liorc  to  fetch  licr  across  to  see  IVIr.  Samuel 
— tlinuiili,  i'(ir  iiiv  [>:\y\,  J  Imld  'twould  be  more  Chris- 
tian to  put  her  to  bed  and  let  her  sleep  the  forenoon 
out." 

When  Hester  descended  to  breakfast  ]\Ir.  Benny 
had  already  arrived ;  and  he  too  could  not  help  show- 
ing astonishment  at  her  youthful  appearance. 

"  But  twenty-five  is  not  so  young,  after  all," 
she  maintained,  laughing.  "  I  feel  my  years,  I  as- 
sure you.  Why  are  you  all  in  conspiracy  to  add  to 
them  ?  " 

"  The  late  Mr.  Rosewarne  had  given  us  no  par- 
ticulars," began  Mr.  Bennv. 

"  He  wrote  at  length  to  me  about  the  school  and 
his  hopes  for  it." 

"  You  knew  him,  then,  Miss  Marvin  ? " 

"  He  was,  in  a  fashion,  a  friend  of  my  father's. 
He  used  to  visit  us  regularly  once  a  year. — But  let 
me  show  you  his  letter." 

"Not  on  any  account!"  Mr.  Benny  put  up  a 
flurried  hand.  "  It — it  wouldn't  be  right."  He  said 
it  almost  sharply.  Hester,  puzzled  to  know  what 
offence  she  had  nearly  committed,  and  in  some  degree 
hurt  by  his  tone,  thrust  the  letter  back  in  her  pocket. 


154 


CHAPTEE   XI 

HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

"  Well  ?  "  Mr.  Sam  lifted  his  eyes  from  his 
writing-table. 

"  Miss  Marvin  has  arrived,  sir,  and  is  waiting  in 
the  morning-parlour,"  Mr.  Benny  announced. 

"  Let  her  wait  a  moment.  I  suppose  she  takes  the 
line  that  we've  definitely  engaged  her  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  sir,  that  she  takes  what  you  might 
call  a  line ;  but  there's  no  doubt  she  believes  herself 
engaged.  She  talks  very  frankly,  and  is  altogether  a 
nice,  pleasant-spoken  young  person." 

"  You  didn't  happen  to  find  out  what  my  father 
wrote  to  her  ?  " 

"  Of  her  own  accord  she  offered  to  show  me  his 
letter." 

"  Well,  and  what  did  it  say  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  read  it,  sir." 

"  You  didn't  read  it  ?  "  Mr.  Sam  repeated  in  slow 
astonishment. 

"  No,  sir.  I  felt  it  wasn't  fair  to  her/'  said  Mr. 
Benny. 

155 


SHINING    FEEEY 

His  employer  regarded  him  for  a  moment  with 
sourly  meditative  eyes. 

"  You  had  best  show  her  in  at  once,"  he  com- 
manded sharply. 

He  reseated  himself,  and  did  not  rise  when 
Hester  entered,  but  slewed  his  chair  around,  nodded 
gloomily  in  response  to  her  slight  bow,  and,  tapping 
his  knees  with  a  paper-knife,  treated  her  to  a  long,  de- 
liberate stare. 

''  Take  a  seat,  please." 
Hester  obeyed  with  a  quiet  "  Thank  you." 
"  You  have  come,  I  believe,  in  answer  to  a  letter 
of  my  father's  ?    Might  I  ask  you  what  he  said,  ex- 
actly ?  " 

Hester's  hand  went  towards  her  pocket,  but 
paused.  She  had  taken  an  instant  aversion  for  this 
man. 

"  My  father,"  he  went  on,  noting  her  hesitation, 
"  has  since  died  suddenly,  as  you  know.  His  affairs 
are  in  some  confusion,  of  course."  This  was  untrue, 
but  Mr.  Sam  had  no  consciousness  of  telling  a  lie. 
The  phrase  was  commonly  used  of  dead  men's  affairs. 
"  In  this  matter  of  your  engagement,  for  instance,  I 
am  moving  in  the  dark.  I  can  find  no  record  of  it 
among  his  papers." 

"I  answered  him,  sir;  but  my  letter  arrivo<l,  it 
seems,  after  his  death,     Mr.  Benny  replied  to  it." 

156 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  I  saw  your  letter,  but  it  did 
not  tell  me  how  far  the  negotiations  had  gone." 

"  You  are  'one  of  the  Managers,  sir  ?  " 

"  Well,  not  precisely ;  but  you  will  find  that  makes 
little  difference.  I  am  to  be  placed  on  the  Board  as 
my  father's  successor." 

"  The  offer  was  quite  definite,"  said  Hester 
calmly.  "  I  would  show  you  the  letter,  but  some 
parts  of  it  are  private." 

"  Now  why  in  the  world  was  she  ready  to  show 
it  to  Benny  ?  "  he  asked  himself.  Aloud  he  said, 
"  You  were  a  friend,  then,  of  my  father's  ?  Is  it  for 
him,  may  I  ask,  that  you  wear  mourning  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  for  my  own  father.  Mr.  Rosewarne 
and  he  were  friends — oh,  for  many  years.  I  asked 
about  it  once,  when  I  was  quite  a  girl,  and  why  Mr. 
Rosewarne  came  to  visit  us  once  every  year  as  he 
did.  My  father  told  me  that  it  had  begun  in  a  quar- 
rel, when  they  were  young  men ;  it  may  have  been 
when  my  father  served  in  the  army,  in  the  barracks 
at  Warwick.  I  don't  remember  that  he  said  so,  yet 
somehow  I  have  always  had  an  idea  that  the  quar- 
rel went  back  to  that  time ;  but  he  said  that  they  had 
hated  one  another,  and  made  friends  after  a  long  time, 
and  that  your  father  had  i\\o  most  to  forgive,  being 
in  the  wrong.  I  remember  those  words,  because  they 
sounded  so  queer  to  me  and  I  could  not  understand 

157 


SHINING    FEEEY 

them.  When  I  was  eighteen,  I  went  out  to  get  my 
living,  and  did  not  see  ]\Ir.  Ilosewarne  for  many  years 
until  the  other  day,  though  he  came  regularly," 

"  The  other  day  ?  "  Mr.  Sam  stared  at  her 
bLankly. 

"  On  the  5tli.  Mr.  Rosewarne  always  paid  his 
visit  on  the  5th  of  June." 

"  I  don't  understand  vou  in  the  least.  A  minute 
ago  you  told  me  that  your  father  was  dead !  " 

"  Yes ;  he  died  almost  two  months  ago.  But  Mr. 
Rosewarne  wrote  and  asked  leave  to  come,  since  it  was 
for  the  last  time." 

"  Your  mother  entertained  him  ?  " 

Hester  shook  her  head.  '^  I  have  no  mother.  He 
came  as  my  guest,  and  that  evening — for  he  never 
spent  more  than  one  night  with  us — we  talked  for  a 
long  while.  He  knew,  of  course,  that  I  was  a  school- 
mistress; and  he  began  to  mock  at  some  things  in 
which  I  believe  very  deeply.  He  did  it  to  try  me, 
perhaps.  I  don't  know  whether  he  came  meaning  to 
try  me,  or  seeing  me  alone  in  the  world,  and  making 
ready  to  leave  the  old  home,  he  suddenly  took  this 
notion  into  his  head.  At  any  rate,  I  did  not  guess  for 
a  moment ;  and  when  he  spoke  scorn  of  girls'  teach- 
ing, I  answered  him — too  hotly,  I  thought  at  the  time ; 
but  it  seems  that  he  forgave  me."  She  rose.  "  I  have 
told  you  all  this,  sir,  because  you  say  you  are  in  the 

158 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

dark.  I  am  here  because  Mr.  Rosewarne  offered  me 
the  post.  But  YOU  seem  disposed  to  deny  this ;  and  so 
in  fairness  I  must  consult  a  friend,  if  I  can  find 
one,  or  a  lawyer  perhaps,  before  showing  you  the 
letter." 

"  Wait  a  moment,  please."  Hester's  story  had 
held  a  light  as  it  were,  though  but  a  faint  one,  to 
an  unexplored  passage  in  old  Rosewarne's  life;  and 
to  Mr.  Sam  every  unexplored  corner  in  that  life  was 
now  to  be  suspected.  *'  You  jump  to  conclusions,  Miss 
Marvin.  I  merely  meant  to  say  that  as  my  father's 
executor  I  have  to  use  reasonable  caution.  Might  I 
inquire  your  age  ?    Excuse  me,  I  know  that  ladies  " — 

"  I  am  twenty-five,"  she  struck  in  sharply. 

"  Married,  or  unmarried  ?  " 

"  Unmarried." 

"  You  will  excuse  me  for  saying  that  I  am  sur- 
prised.    A  young  person  of  your  attractiveness  " — 

"  Have  you  any  more  questions,  sir  ?  " 

"  Eh  ? — ah,  to  be  sure  !     Qualifications  ?  " 

Hester  briefly  enumerated  these.  He  did  not  ap- 
pear to  be  listening,  but  sat  eyeing  her  abstractedly, 
while  he  rattled  the  point  of  the  paper-knife  between 
his  upper  and  lower  teeth. 

"  Yes,  yes — quite  satisfactory.  Religious  views  ?" 

"  I  beg  your  pardon  ? " 


"  Religious  views  ?  " 


159 


SHINING   FERRY 

"  If  joii  really  think  that  a  necessary  question, 
1  was  baptized  and  brought  up  in  the  Church  of 
England." 

"  Not  a  bigoted  Churchwomaii,  1  hope  ?  " 

"  Not  bigoted,  I  certainly  hope,"  Hester  answered 
demurely. 

"  I  feel  sure  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Sam,  rising  gal- 
lantly. "  In  the  matter  of  so-called  apostolic  succes- 
sion, for  instance  " — 

But  here  there  came  a  tap  at  the  door,  and  Eliza- 
beth Jane,  the  housemaid,  announced  that  Parson 
Endicott  had  called.  "  Show  him  in,"  ordered  Mr. 
Sam  promptly,  and  at  the  same  time — having  sud- 
denly made  up  his  mind — he  flung  Hester  an  in- 
sufferably confidential  glance,  which  seemed  to  say, 
"  Never  mind  him;  you  and  I  are  in  the  same 
boat." 

Parson  Endicott  suffered  from  shortness  of  sight 
and  a  high  parsonic  manner.  He  paused  on  the 
threshold  to  wii)e  his  eyeglasses,  adjusted  them  on  his 
nose,  and  gazing  around  the  room,  cleared  his  throat 
as  if  about  to  address  a  congregation. 

"  Good-day,  parson."  Mr.  Sam  saluted  him 
amiably,  still  without  rising.  "  You've  come  in  the 
nick  of  time.  1  liave  just  been  chatting  with  Miss 
Marvin  here — our  new  schoolmistress." 

Hester  divined  that,  for  some  reason,  Mr.  Samuel 

160 


HESTEK    IS    ACCEPTED 

had  decided  to  accept  her  claim;  and  that  for  some 
reason  equally  occult  he  meant  to  give  the  clergyman 
no  choice  but  to  accept  it. 

"  Indeed  ? — er — yes,  to  be  sure,  I  am  pleased  to 
make  your  acquaintance.  Miss  Marvin,"  said  Parson 
Endicott  mellifluously,  with  a  glance  which  seemed 
to  distinguish  Hester  kindly  from  the  ordinary  furni- 
ture of  the  room.  This  was  his  habitual  way  of  show- 
ing cordial  goodwill  to  his  social  inferiors,  and  the 
poor  man  had  lived  to  the  age  of  fifty-six  without 
guessing  that  they  invariably  saw  through  it.  Hav- 
ing bestowed  this  glance  of  kindness  upon  Hester,  he 
turned  to  Mr.  Sam  with  another,  which  plainly  asked 
how  far  (as  one  person  of  importance  conferring  with 
another)  he  might  take  it  that  the  creature  before 
them  was  a  satisfactory  creature. 

"  You're  in  luck's  way,"  said  Mr.  Sam,  answer- 
ing this  look.    ''  She's  a  Churchwoman." 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Rosewarne  " —  Parson  Endicott 
pressed  the  finger-tips  of  both  hands  together,  hold- 
ing them  in  front  of  his  stomach — "  I  am  gratified — 
deeply  gratified;  but  you  must  not  suppose  for  one 
moment — h'm — whatever  my  faults,  I  take  some 
credit  to  myself  for  broad-mindedness.  A  Church- 
woman,  eh  ?  " — he  beamed  on  Hester — "  and  in  other 
respects,  I  hope,  satisfactory  ?  " 

"  Quite."     Mr.  Sam  turned  to  Hester.     "  Would 

161 


SHINING    FERRY 

jou  mind  running  over  your  qualifications  again  ? 
To  tell  the  truth,  I've  forgotten  'em." 

Hester,  with  an  acute  sense  of  shame,  again  re- 
hearsed the  list. 

"  Quite  so,"  said  Parson  Endicott,  who  had  ob- 
viously not  been  listening.  He  turned  to  Mr.  Sam 
with  inquiry  in  his  eye.  "  I  think,  perhaps — if  Miss 
Marvin  " — 

"  I  daresay  she  won't  mind  stepping  into  the  next 
room,"  said  Mr.  Sam,  turning  his  back  on  her,  and 
calmly  reseating  himself.  The  parson  glanced  at 
Hester  with  polite  inquiry,  and,  as  she  bowed,  stepped 
to  open  the  door  for  her.  With  head  bent  to  hide 
the  flush  on  her  cheeks,  she  passed  out  into  the  great 
parlour. 

Now  the  great  parlour  overlooked  the  garden 
through  three  tall  windows,  of  which  Susannah  had 
drawn  down  the  blinds  half-way  and  opened  the  lower 
sashes,  so  that  the  room  seemed  to  Hester  deliciously 
fresh  and  cool.  It  was  filled,  too,  with  the  fragrance 
of  a  jarful  of  peonies,  set  accurately  in  the  middle  of 
the  long  bare  table ;  and  she  stood  for  a  moment — her 
sight  yet  misty  with  indignant,  wounded  pride — star- 
ing at  the  reflection  of  their  crimson  blooms  in  the 
polished  mahogany. 

These  two  men  were  intolerable:  and  yet  they 
only  translated  into  meaner  terms  the  opinion  which 

162 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

everyone  in  this  strange  country  seemed  to  have 
formed  of  her.  She  thought  of  the  young  sailor,  of 
Nuncey,  of  Mr.  Benny.  All  these  were  simple  souls, 
and  patently  willing  to  believe  the  best  of  a  fellow- 
creature  ;  yet  each  in  a  different  way  had  treated  her 
with  suspicion,  as  though  she  were  here  to  seek  her 
own  interests,  and  with  a  selfish  disregard  of  others'. 
The  young  sailor  had  openly  and  hotly  accused  her  of 
it.  Nuncey  and  her  father,  though  kind,  and  even 
delicately  eager  to  make  her  welcome,  as  clearly  held 
some  disapproval  in  reserve — were  puzzled  somehow 
to  account  for  her.  And  she  was  guiltless.  She  had 
come  in  response  to  a  plain  invitation,  thinking  only 
of  good  work  to  be  done.  No ;  what  she  found  intol- 
erable was  not  these  two  men,  but  the  whole  situation. 

She  turned  with  a  start.  Something  had  flown 
in  through  the  open  midmost  window,  and  fallen  with 
a  thud  on  the  floor  a  few  yards  from  her  feet. 

She  stepped  across  and  stooped  to  examine  it.  It 
was  the  upper  half  of  a  tattered  and  somewhat  grimy 
rag  doll. 

To  account  for  this  apparition  we  must  cross  the 
garden,  to  the  summer-house,  where  Myra  and  Clem 
had  hidden  themselves  awav  from  the  heat  with  a 
book,  and,  for  the  twentieth  time  perhaps,  were  lost 
in  the  adventures  of  Jack  the  Tinker  and  the  Giant 

163 


SHINING   FERRY 

Blunderbuss.  As  a  rule  Myra  would  read  a  portion 
of  the  story,  and  the  pair  then  fell  to  acting  it  over 
together.  In  this  way  Clem  had  slain,  in  the  course 
of  his  young  life,  many  scores  of  giants,  wizards,  drag- 
ons, and  other  enemies  of  mankind,  his  sister  the 
while  keeping  watch  over  his  blindness,  and  calling 
to  him  when  and  where  to  deliver  the  deadly  stroke. 
But  to-day  the  heat  disinclined  them  for  these  dra- 
matic exertions,  and  they  sat  quiet,  even  on  reaching 
the  point  at  which  Jack  the  Tinker,  his  friend  Tom, 
the  good-natured  giant,  and  Tom's  children,  young 
Tom  and  Jane,  fare  forth  with  slings  for  their  fa- 
mous hunting. 

"  '  They  soon  knocked  down  as  many  kids,  hares, 
and  rabbits  as  they  desired.  They  caught  some  colts, 
placed  the  children  on  two  of  them  and  the  game  on 
the  others,  and  home  they  went.'  " 

Myra  glanced  up  at  Clem,  for  this  was  a  passage 
which  ever  called  to  him  like  a  trumpet.  But  to-day 
Clem  spread  out  both  hands,  protesting. 

"  '  On  their  return,  whilst  waiting  for  supper, 
Jack  wandered  around  the  castle,  and  was  struck  by 
seeing  a  window  which  he  had  not  before  observed. 
Jack  was  resolved  to  discover  the  room  to  which  this 
window  belonged;  so  he  very  carefully  noticed  its 
position  and  then  threw  his  hammer  in  through  ir, 
that  he  might  be  certain  of  the  spot  when  he  found 

164 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

his  tool  inside  the  castle.  The  next  day,  after  din- 
ner ' — 

"  Wait  a  moment,  Clem  dear !  " 

"  Oh,  but  we  must!  "  Clem  had  jmnped  to  his 
feet. 

"  It's  too  dreadfully  hot.  Very  well,  then ;  but 
wait  for  the  end. 

"  '  The  next  day,  after  dinner,  when  Tom  was 
having  his  snooze,  Jack  took  Tom's  wife  Jane  with 
him,  and  they  began  a  search  for  the  hammer  near 
the  spot  where  Jack  supposed  the  window  should  be ; 
but  they  saw  no  signs  of  one  in  any  part  of  the  walls. 
They  discovered,  however,  a  strangely  fashioned 
worm-eaten  oak  hanging-press.  They  carefully  exam- 
ined this,  but  found  nothing.  At  last  Jack,  striking 
the  back  of  it  with  his  fist,  was  convinced  from  the 
sound  that  the  wall  behind  it  was  hollow.  He  and 
Jane  went  steadilv  to  work,  and  with  some  exertion 
they  moved  the  press  aside  and  disclosed  a  stone  door. 
They  opened  this,  and  there  was  Jack's  hammer  ly- 
ing amidst  a  pile  of  bones,  evidently  the  relics  of  some 
of  old  Blunderbuss's  wives,  whom  he  had  imprisoned 
in  the  wall  and  left  to  perish  there !  '  " 

Myra  shut  the  book  with  a  slam,  and,  groping 
beneath  the  seat  of  the  summer-house,  found  and 
handed  to  Clem  the  torso  of  an  old  rag  doll,  which,  be- 
cause it  might  be  thrown  against  a  window  without 

105 


SHINING    FEREY 

breaking  the  glass,  served  as  their  wonted  substitute 
for  the  Tinker's  hammer. 

"0-oh!"  cried  Myra,  clutching  at  Clem  and 
drawing  him  back  from  the  sudden  apparition  in  the 
window;  and  so  for  a  dozen  seconds  she  and  Hester 
stared  at  one  another. 

"  Good-morning !  " 

"Good-morning!"  Myra  hesitated  a  moment. 
"  Though  I  don't  know  who  you  are.  Oh,  but  yes  I 
do!  You're  the  new  teacher,  and  it's  no  use  your 
pretending." 

"  Am  I  pretending  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"  Yes ;  but  I  know  what  to  do."  The  child  nodded 
her  head  defiantly  and  made  an  elaborate  sign  of 
the  cross,  first  over  Clem  and  then  upon  the  front 
of  her  own  bodice.  "  That's  against  witches,"  she 
announced. 

"  Please  don't  take  me  for  a  witch !  "  It  was 
absurd,  but  really  Hester  began  to  wonder  where  these 
misunderstandings  would  end.  The  look,  too,  on  the 
boy's  face  puzzled  her. 

"  I  always  wondered,"  said  Myra,  unmoved,  "  if 
the  new  teacher  would  turn  <>ut  a  witch.  Witches  al- 
ways start  by  making  themselves  into  young  and 
beautiful  ladies;  that's  their  I  rick.  Whoever  heard 
of  a  teacher  being  a  young  and  beautiful  lady  ?  " 

1G6 


HESTEE    IS    ACCEPTED 

"  Well,"  answered  Hester,  between  a  sigh  and  a 
smile,  "  a  compliment's  a  compliment,  however  it 
comes.  I  am  the  witch,  then ;  and  who  may  you  be  ? 
— Hansel  and  Grethel,  I  suppose  ?  I  don't  think, 
though,  that  Hansel  really  believes  me  a  witch,  by  the 
way  he's  looking  at  me." 

"  He  isn't  looking  at  you  at  all.  Come  away, 
Clem !  "  She  led  the  boy  away  by  the  hand,  which 
he  gave  to  her  obediently,  but  left  him  when  half-way 
across  the  turf  and  came  swiftly  back.  "  He  wasn't 
looking  at  you.    He's  blind." 

"  Ah,  poor  child !  I  am  sorry — please  tell  me 
your  name,  and  believe  that  I  am  sorry." 

"  If  you  were  sorry,  you'd  go  away,  and  not  come 
teaching  here."  Myra  delivered  this  Parthian  shaft 
over  her  shoulder  as  she  walked  off.  At  the  same 
moment  Hester  heard  a  door  open  in  the  room  behind 
her,  and  Parson  Endicott  came  forth  from  the  count- 
ing-house. 

"  Ah — er — Miss  Marvin  " —  He  paused  with  a 
lift  of  his  eyebrows  at  the  sight  of  the  rag  doll  in  Hes- 
ter's hand.  She,  on  her  part,  felt  a  sudden  hysteri- 
cal desire  to  laugh  wildly. 

"  It — it  isn't  mine !  "  she  managed  to  say  in  a 
faint  voice  and  with  a  catch  in  her  throat. 

"  I  had  not  supposed  so,"  Parson  Endicott  an- 
swered gravely.     "  I  came  to  tell  you,  IMiss  Marvin, 

]G7 


SHINING    FERRY 

that  Mr.  Samuel  Rosewarne  and  I  have  agreed  to 
recognise  your  claim.  By  so  doing  we  shall  be  piously 
observing  his  father's  wishes,  and — er — I  anticipate 
no  opposition  from  my  fellow-members  on  the  Board. 
The  school — ^you  have  already  paid  it  a  visit,  per- 
haps ?  No  ?  It  will,  I  venture  to  think,  exceed  your 
expectations.  The  school  is  furnished  and  ready.  I 
suggest — if  the  other  Managers  consent — that  we  open 
it  formally  on  Tuesday  next,  with  a  short  religious 
service,  consecrating,  so  to  speak,  your  future  labours. 
Yours  is  a  wonderful  sphere  of  usefulness.  Miss  Mar- 
vin ;  and  may  I  say  what  pleasure  it  gives  me  to 
learn  that  you  are  a  Churchwoman.  A  regular  com- 
municant, I  hope  ?  " 

Hester  was  silent.  She  disliked  this  man,  and 
saw  no  reason  to  be  hurried  into  making  any  confes- 
sion to  him. 

"  It  is  a  point  upon  which  T  am  accustomed  to  lay 
great  stress.  In  these  days,  with  schismatics  on  all 
hands  to  contend  against,  it  behoves  all  members  of 
the  true  Church  to  show  a  bold  and  united  front." 
He  leaned  his  head  on  one  side  and  looked  at  her  inter- 
rogatively.   "  Do  you  play  the  harmonium  ?  "  he  asked. 

But  at  this  point  Mr.  Sam  thrust  his  head  out 
tliinuo],  tlio  counting-house  doorway,  and  the  parson 
coughed  discreetly,  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  answer 
might  wait. 

168 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

"  Well,  Miss  Marvin,"  said  Mr.  Sam  jocosely, 
"  we've  fixed  it  up  for  you  between  us  !  " 

Hester  thanked  them  both  briefly,  and  wished 
them  good-day. 

"  She  dresses  respectably,"  said  the  parson,  when 
the  two  were  left  alone.  "  I  detect  a  certain  earn- 
estness in  her,  though  I  cannot  say  as  yet  how  far 
it  is  based  on  genuine  religious  principles." 

"  She  is  more  comely  than  I  expected,"  said 
Mr.  Sam. 

At  the  ferry  Hester  found  Nuncey  awaiting  her 
with  a  boat-load  of  the  Benny  children. 

"  I  reckoned  you'd  be  here  just-about-now," 
Nuncey  hailed  her.  "  Come'st  along  for  a  bathe  wi' 
the  children !     I've  a-brought  a  bathin'  suit  for  'ee." 

"  But  I  can't  swim,"  Hester  answered  in  alarm, 
and  added,  as  she  stepped  into  the  boat,  "  Nuncey, 
don't  laugh  at  me,  but  until  to-day  I  had  never  seen 
the  sea  in  my  life." 

Nunccy  looked  her  up  and  down  quizzically. 
"  And  I've  never  seen  Lunnon !  Never  mind,  my 
dear;  'tisii'  too  late  to  begin.  There's  none  of  this 
crew  knows  how  to  swim  but  me  and  Tenny  here,"  she 
pointed  out  a  boy  of  eleven  or  twelve.  "  We'll  just 
row  out  to  harbour's  month;  there's  a  cove  where  we 
can  put  the  littlest  ones  to  ])addle.    And  after  that  I'll 


SHINIXG    FERRY 

larn  'ee  how  to  strike  out  and  use  your  legs,  if  you've 
a  mind  to.  It'll  do  'ee  good  to  kick  a  bit,  I'll  wage, 
after  a  dose  of  Mister  Sara.  Well,  and  how  did  you 
like  'en  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  like  liini  at  all."  Hester  almost  broke 
down.  ''  Please,  Nuncey,  be  good  to  nie !  It — it 
seems  as  everyone  was  banded  against  me  to-day,  to 
think  badly  of  me." 

"  Be  good  to  'ee  ?  Why,  to  be  sure  I  will !  Sit 
'ee  down  and  unlace  your  boots,  while  me  and  Tenny 
pulls.  Care  killed  the  cat — 'cos  why  ?  He  wouldn't 
wash  it  off  in  salt  water." 

They  rowed  down  past  the  quays  and  out  beyond 
the  ancient  fort  at  the  harbour's  mouth.  On  the  op- 
posite shore  a  reef  of  rock  ran  out,  and  on  the  ridge 
stood  a  white  wooden  cross,  "  })ut  u]),"  so  Xuncey 
informed  her,  "  because  Pontius  Pilate  landed  here 
one  time."  Beyond  this  ridge  they  found  a  shingly 
beach  secluded  from  the  town,  warmed  by  the  full 
rays  of  the  westering  sun.  There  they  undressed,  one 
and  all,  and  for  half  an  hour  were  completely  happy. 
To  be  sure,  Hester's  happiness  contained  a  fair  ad- 
mixture of  fright  Avhen  Nuncey  took  her  hand  and 
led  her  out  till  the  water  rose  more  than  waist-hiiih 
about  her, 

"  Now  trust  to  me;  lean  forward,  and  see  if  you 
can't  lift  your  feet  off  the  ground,"  said  Nuncey,  slip- 

170 


HESTER    IS    ACCEPTED 

ping  a  hand  under  lier  breast.  Hester  tried  her 
hardest  to  be  brave,  and  althongh  no  swimming  was 
accomplished  that  day,  the  trial  ended  in  peals  of 
laughter.  She  splashed  ashore  at  length,  gleeful, 
refreshed  in  body  and  mind,  and  resolved  to  make 
herself  as  good  a  swimmer  as  Nuncey,  who  swam 
like  a  duck. 


171 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    OPENING    DAY 

It  often  happens,  when  a  number  of  persons  meet 
together  for  some  purpose  in  itself  unselfish,  that  there 
prevails  in  the  assembly  a  spirit  of  its  own,  recognis- 
able good,  surprising  even  the  pettiest  with  a  sud- 
den glow  in  their  hearts,  and  a  sudden  revelaticn 
that  the  world  is  a  cheerfuller  place  than  in  their 
daily  lives  they  take  it  for.  This  cheerful  congrega- 
tional spirit  I  take  to  flow  from  a  far  deeper  source 
than  the  emotion,  for  example,  which  a  great  preacher 
commands  in  his  audience.  It  may  be — indeed,  usu- 
ally is — accompanied  by  very  poor  oratory.  The 
occasion  may  be  trivial  as  you  please;  that  it  be  un- 
selfish will  suffice  to  unlock  the  goodness  within  men, 
who,  if  often  worse  than  they  believe,  and  usually  than 
they  make  believe,  are  always  better  than  they  know. 

This  spirit  prevailed  at  the  school  opening,  and 
because  of  it  Hester  felt  happy  and  confident  during 
the  little  function,  and  ever  afterwards  remembered 
it  with  pleasure.  For  the  moment  Church  and  Dis- 
sent seemed  to  forget  their  meannesses  and  jealousies. 
The  morning  sun  shone  without;  the  breeze  ])layed 
through  the  open  windows  with  a  thousand  hedge- 

172 


THE    OPENING   DAY 

row  scents ;  the  two  score  of  children  ranged  by 
their  desks,  fresh-faced  and  in  their  cleanest  clothes, 
suggested  thoughts  innocent  and  deep  as  the  gospel 
story;  and  if  Parson  Endicott  was  long-winded,  and 
Mr.  Sam  spoke  tunelessly  and  accompanied  his  per- 
formance on  the  bones,  so  to  speak — that  is,  by  pull- 
ing at  his  knuckles  till  the  joints  cracked — consola- 
tion soon  followed.  For  third  and  last  came  the 
turn  of  the  Inspector,  who  had  halted  on  his  progress 
through  the  county  to  attend  a  ceremony  of  the  kind 
in  which  he  took  delight.  He  had  lately  been  trans- 
ferred from  the  Charity  Commission  to  this  new 
work,  and  it  fell  to  him  at  a  time  when  the  selfish 
ambitions  die  down,  and  in  their  place,  if  a  man's 
heart  be  sound,  there  springs  up  a  fatherly  tender- 
ness for  the  young,  with  a  passionate  desire  to  help 
them.  Hester  could  not  guess  that  this  grave  and 
courteous  gentleman,  grey-haired,  clean  shaven,  schol- 
arly in  his  accent,  neat  even  to  primness  in  his  dress, 
spoke  with  a  vision  before  him  of  an  England  to  be 
made  happy  by  making  its  children  happy,  that  the 
roots  of  the  few  simple  thoughts  he  uttered  were 
watered  by  ideal  springs — 

"  I  will  not  cease  from  mental  fif?ht, 

Nor  shall  my  swoni  sleep  in  my  hand, 
Till  we  have  l)uilt  Jerusalem 

In  England's  green  and  pleasant  land. " 

173 


SHINING   FERRY 

Simple  as  the  tlioiiolits  wcro,  and  directly  spoken, 
the  children  gazed  at  liini  with  set  faces,  not  appear- 
ing to  kindle  with  any  understanding;  and  yet,  after 
the  manner  of  children,  they  were  secreting  a  seed 
here  and  there,  to  germinate  in  their  dark  little  minds 
later  on,  as  in  due  time  Hester  discovered.  She  her- 
self, seated  at  the  harmonium,  felt  a  lift  of  the  heart 
and  mist  gathering  over  her  sight  at  the  close  of  his 
quiet  peroration,  and  a  tear  fell  as  she  stretched  out 
her  hands  over  the  opening  chords  of  the  "  Old  Hun- 
dredth." All  sang  it  with  a  will,  and  Parson  Endi- 
cott  with  an  unction  ho  usually  reserved  for  "  The 
Church's  One  Foimdation." 

With  a  brief  prayer  and  the  benediction  the  cere- 
mony ended,  and  while  the  elders  filed  out  the  In- 
spector walked  over  for  a  few  words  "with  Hester. 

"  Ever  since  I  learnt  your  name,  Miss  Marvin — 
excuse  me,  it  is  not  a  common  one — I  have  been  want- 
ing to  ask  you  a  question.  I  used  to  have  an  old 
friend — Jeremy  Marvin — who  lived  at  Warwick,  and 
found  for  me  some  scores  of  old  books  in  his  time. 
I  was  wondering  " — 

"  He  was  my  father,  sir." 

"  Indeed  ?  Then,  please,  you  must  let  me  shake 
hands  with  his  daughter.  Yes,  yes  " — with  a  glance 
down  at  her  black  skirt — "  I  heard  of  his  death,  and 
with  a  real  sense  of  bereavement." 

174 


THE    OPENIXG    DAY 

"  I  have  addressed  and  posted  many  a  parcel  to 
you,  sir,  in  the  days  before  I  left  home  to  earn  my 
living." 

"  And  you  weren't  going  to  tell  me  that  ?  You 
left  me  to  find  out — yes,  yes ;  '  formidable  Inspector,' 
and  that  sort  of  thing,  eh  ?  I'm  not  an  ogre,  though. 
Now  this  little  discovery  has  just  put  the  finishing 
touch  to  a  delightful  morning !  " 

Hester,  encouraged  by  his  smile,  laughed  merrily, 
and  so  did  he ;  less  at  the  spoken  words  than  because 
of  the  good  gladness  brimming  their  hearts. 

"  But  tell  me,"  he  went  on,  becoming  serious  again, 
"  if  a  child,  out  of  shyness,  hid  from  you  a  small 
secret  of  that  sort,  you  would  be  sorry — eh  ?  And 
you  would  rightly  be  sorry,  because  by  missing  that 
little  of  his  entire  trust  you  had  by  so  much  fallen 
short  of  being  a  perfect  teacher." 

"  And  two  of  these  children,"  thought  Hester, 
with  a  glance  at  Clem  and  Myra,  "  solemnly  believe 
I  am  a  witch !  " 

As  the  Inspector  went  down  the  hill  towards  the 
ferry,  he  overtook  another  and  older  acquaintance  in 
an  old  college  friend.  This  was  Sir  George  Dinham 
of  Troy,  who  had  attended  the  ceremony  uninvited, 
and  greatly  to  the  awe  of  everyone  assembled — the 
Inspector  and  Hester  alone  excepted.     Indeed,  his 

175 


SHINING   FEKRY 

presence  had  bidden  fair  at  the  start  to  upset  the 
proceedings;  for  Parson  Endicott  and  Mr.  Sam  had 
both  approached  him  hat  in  hand,  and  begged  him, 
not  without  servility,  to  preside.  This  proposal  he 
had  declined  with  his  habitual  shy,  melancholy  smile, 
and  shrunk  away  to  a  back  row  of  the  audience.  In 
his  great  house  over  Troy  he  lived  a  recluse :  a  scholar, 
a  childless  man,  the  last  of  his  race,  rarely  seen 
by  the  townsfolk,  of  whom  two-thirds  at  least  were 
his  tenants.  He  had  heard  of  the  Inspector's  coming, 
and  some  ray  of  remembered  affection  had  enticed 
him  forth  from  his  shell,  to  listen.  Now,  at  the  sound 
of  the  Inspector's  footstep  on  the  road  behind  him, 
he  turned  and  waited,  leaning  on  his  stick.  The  two 
men  had  not  met  since  a  Commemoration  Ball  when 
young  Dinham  led  his  friend  proudly  up  to  a  beauti- 
ful girl,  his  bride  that  was  to  be.  Slio  died  a  bare 
six  weeks  later;  and  from  that  day  her  lover  had 
buried  himself  with  his  woe. 

"  George !  " 

"  How  d'ye  do.  Jack  ?  I  had  to  turn  out  to  listen, 
you  see — ecce  quam  sempiterna  vox  juvcntuiis!  You 
have  improved  on  your  old  debating  style,  having,  as 
I  gather,  found  belief." 

The  Inspector  flushed.  "  Ah,  you  gathered 
that?" 

"  Yes,  I  haven't  lost  the  knack  of  understanding 

176 


THE    OPENING   DAY 

those  I  once  understood.  Not  that  it  needed  any- 
thing of  the  sort.  Man,  you  were  admirably 
straight — and  gentle,  too — you  that  used  to  be  in- 
tolerant. You  mustn't  think,  though,  that  I'm  con- 
vinced ;  I  can't  afford  to  be." 

"  You  mean —  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that,  if  you  are  right,  I  ought  to  be 
a  sun  worshipper,  and  sit  daily  at  dawn  on  top  of  my 
tower  yonder,  warming  my  hands  against  the  glow 
of  children's  faces,  trooping  to  school.  ^Miereas  the 
little  beggars  run  wild  and  rob  my  orchards,  and 
I  don't  remember  at  this  moment  my  parish  school- 
master's name." 

The  Inspector  bethought  him  of  the  broken  bridge 
in  his  friend's  life — the  bridge  by  which  men  cross 
over  from  self  into  love  of  a  new  generation — and 
was  silent. 

"  But  look  here,"  Sir  George  went  on,  "  the  fun 
was  your  preaching  the  doctrine  in  that  temple. 
You  didn't  know  tlie  man  who  built  it.  He  died  a 
week  or  two  ago ;  a  man  of  character,  I  tell  you,  and 
a  big  fellow,  too,  in  his  way." 

"  I  have  heard  of  this  Rosewarne.  All  I  know 
of  him  is  that  he's  to  bo  thanked  for  the  best-fitted 
school,  for  its  size,  in  all  Cornwall.  I'm  not  talk- 
ing of  expense  merely;  hv  used  lliuught,  down  to 
the  details.     When  you  begin  to  study  these  things, 

177 


SniNING   FERRY 

you  recog^iise  thought,  down  to  the  raising  or  lower- 
ing of  a  desk,  or  tlie  screws  in  a  cupboard.  You  don't 
get  your  fittings  right  by  giving  carte  blanche  to  a 
wholesale  firm." 

"  Of  course  you  don't.  But  what,  think  you,  had 
the  man  in  view  ?  I  tell  you.  Jack,  you  are  a  fossil 
beside  him.  You  talk  of  making  good  citizens,  quite 
in  the  old  Hellenic  style.  Oh  yes,  I  recognised  the 
incurable  Aristotle  in  your  exhortation,  though  you 
did  address  it  to  two  score  of  rustic  British  chil- 
dren. But,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are  a  philosopher 
in  a  barbarian's  court,  and  your  barbarian  has  been 
reading  his  Darwin.  Where  you  see  a  troop  of  little 
angels  " — 

"  Non  Angeli  sed  Angli,^^  the  Inspector  put  in, 
W'ith  a  smile. 

"  Where  you  behold  a  vision,  then,  of  little  Eng- 
lish citizens  growing  up  to  serve  the  State,  he  saw 
a  horde  of  little  struggle-for-lifers  climbing  on  each 
other's  backs;  and  tlicsc  fellows — that  son  of  his,  and 
the  parson — will  follow  his  line  by  instinct.  They 
don't  reason;  but  Darwin  and  the  rest  have  flung 
them  on  the  scent  of  selfishness,  and  they  have  a  rare 
nose  for  self.  Struggle-for-life  or  struggle-for-creed, 
the  scent  is  the  same,  and  they're  hot  upon  it." 

*'  Think  of  these  last  fifty  years  of  noble  reform. 
Is  England  going  back  upon  herself — upon  the  spirit, 

178 


THE    OPENING    DAY 

for  instance,  that  raised  Italy,  freed  the  slave,  and 
cared  for  the  factory  child  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  she  will.  She  has  found  a  creed  to 
vindicate  the  human  brute,  and  the  next  generation — 
mark  my  words — will  be  predatory.  Within  twenty 
years  we  shall  be  told  that  it  is  inevitable  the  weak 
should  suffer  to  enrich  the  strong;  we  shall  accept 
the  assurance,  and  our  poets  will  hymn  it  passion- 
ately." 

"  If  that  day  should  ever  come,  we  can  still  die 
fighting  it.  But  I  trust  to  Knowledge  to  do  her 
own  work.  You  remember  that  sentence  in  the  Laws, 
'  Many  a  victory  has  been  and  will  be  suicidal  to 
the  victors,  but  education  is  never  suicidal '  ?  Nor 
will  you  persuade  me  easily  that  the  new  mistress 
up  yonder  " — the  Inspector  nodded  back  at  the  school 
building — "  is  going  to  train  her  children  to  be  little 
beasts  of  prey." 

"  The  girl  with  tlie  Madonna  face?  No;  you're 
right  there.  But  the  Managers  will  find  a  short 
way  with  her  ;  she'll  go." 

"  She  turns  out  to  be  the  daughter  of  an  old 
friend  of  mine,  Marvin  of  Warwick,  the  second- 
hand bookseller." 

"  Marvin  ?  Jerouiinh  ]\Iarviii  ?  Why,  I  must 
have  received  his  catalon-ues  bv  the  score." 

"Jeremy,"  his  friend  corrected  liini.     "Tie  was 

179 


SHINING   FERRY 

christened  Jeremiah,  to  be  sure,  and  told  me  once 
it  was  the  handiest  name  on  earth,  and  could  l)e  made 
to  express  anything,  '  from  the  lugubrious,  sir,  to  the 
rollicking.  In  my  young  days,  sir,' — for  he  had  been 
a  soldier  in  his  time — '  I  was  Corporal  Jerry.  Cor- 
poral Jerry  Marvin  !  Hoav's  that  for  a  name  'i  Jere- 
miah I  hold  in  reserve  against  the  blows  of  destiny 
or  promotion  to  a  better  world.  But  Jeremy,  sir, 
as  T  Ihiiik  you'll  allow,  is  the  only  wear  for  a  second- 
hand bookseller,'    A  whimsical  fellow  !  " 

"  He  is  dead,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  died  a  few  weeks  since ;  and  poorly-off, 
I'm  afraid.  He  had  a  habit  of  reading  the  books  he 
vended.  Look  here,  George  " — the  Inspector  halted 
in  the  middle  of  the  roadway — ^'  I  want  you  to  do 
me  a  favour,  or  rather,  to  promise  one." 

"  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  that,  if  these  fellows  get 
rid  of  Miss  Marvin,  you  will  see  that  she  suffers  no 
harsh  treatment  from  lliciii.  I  can  find  her  another 
post,  no  doubt ;  l)nt  there  may  be  an  interval  in 
which  you  can  help." 

"  Very  well,"  Sir  George  answered,  after  a  pause. 
"  I  can  manage  that.  But  they'll  eject  her,  you 
may  bet." 


180 


CHAPTER    XIII 

TOM    TEEVAETIIEN    INTERVENES 

When  the  company  had  departed  Hester  ar- 
ranged her  small  troop  at  their  desks — hoys  and 
girls  and  "  infants  " — and  made  them  a  speech.  It 
was  a  very  short  speech,  asking  for  their  affection, 
and  somehow  she  found  herself  addressing  it  to  Myra, 
whose  dark  eyes  rested  on  her  with  a  stare  of  un- 
yielding suspicion.  On  hearing  that  the  two  children 
were  to  attend  the  Board  School,  Aunt  Purchase  had 
broken  out  into  vehement  protest,  the  exact  purport 
of  which  Myra  did  not  comprehend.  But  she  gath- 
ered that  a  wrong  of  some  kind  was  being  done  to  her 
and  (this  was  more  important)  to  Clem,  and  she  con- 
nected it  with  the  loss  of  their  liberty.  Until  this 
moment  she  had  known  no  schooling.  Her  grand- 
mother in  stray  hours  had  taught  her  the  alphabet  and 
some  simple  reading,  and  the  rest  of  her  knowledge 
she  had  picked  up  for  herself.  She  well  remembered 
the  last  of  these  stray  hours.  It  fell  on  a  midsummer 
evening,  three  years  before,  when  she  and  Clem — 
then  a  child  of  four — had  spent  a  long  day  riding  to 

181 


SHINING   FERRY 

and  fro  in  the  luij  waggons,  Now  Mrs.  Rosewarne 
for  the  last  few  years  of  her  life,  and  indeed  ever 
since  Myra  could  remember,  had  been  a  cripple,  con- 
fined to  the  house  or  to  her  small  garden,  save  only 
when  she  entered  an  ancient  covered  vehicle  (called 
"  the  Car  ")  and  was  jogged  into  Liskeard  to  visit  her 
dressmaker,  or  over  to  Damelioc  to  attend  one  of  Lady 
Killiow's  famous  rose  fetes.  It  was  the  hour  of  sun- 
set, tlien,  and  in  the  shadow  of  the  hedge  old  Pleasant, 
the  waggon-horse,  having  Clem  on  his  back,  stood 
tethered,  released  from  his  work,  contentedly  cropping 
the  rank  grass  between  the  clusters  of  meadow-sweet, 
and  whisking  his  tail  to  brush  off  the  flies.  The 
horse-flies  had  been  pestilent  all  day,  and  Myra  was 
weaving  a  frontlet  of  green  hazel  twigs  to  slip  under 
Pleasant's  headstall,  when  she  happened  to  turn  and 
caught  sight  of  her  grandmother  standing  by  the 
upper  gate,  leaning  on  her  ivory-headed  staff,  and 
shading  her  eyes  against  the  level  sun.  No  one 
ever  knew  how  the  old  lady  had  found  strength  to 
walk  the  distance  from  the  house — for  walked  it  she 
had.  It  may  have  been  that  some  sudden  fright  im- 
pelled her;  some  unreasoning  panic  for  the  children's 
safety.  Old  Rosewarne,  seated  on  horseback  and 
watching  the  rickmakers  in  the  far  corner,  caught 
sight  of  her,  cantered  across  to  the  gate,  dismounted 
there,  and  led  her  home  on  his  arm,  and  the  chil- 

182 


TOM  TREVARTHEN"  INTERVENES 

dren  had  followed.  So  far  as  Mjra  could  remember, 
nothing  came  of  this  apparition — nothing  except  that 
she  found  herself,  a  little  later,  seated  in  her  grand- 
mother's dressing-room  and  reading  aloud ;  and  this 
must  have  happened  soon  after  they  reached  home, 
for  while  she  read  she  heard  the  fowls  settling  them- 
selves to  roost  in  the  hen-house  beneath  the  open  win- 
dow. Three  weeks  later  Mrs,  Rosewarne  was  dead, 
had  faded  out  like  a  shadow;  and  since  then  the 
children  had  run  wild,  no  one  constraining  them 
to  tasks. 

She  sat  with  eyes  fixed  sullenly  on  Hester,  and 
fingers  ready  at  any  moment  to  make  the  sign  of 
the  cross.  To  the  other  children  she  paid  no  heed ; 
they  were  merely  so  many  victims  entrapped,  ready 
to  be  changed  into  birds  and  put  into  cages,  as  in 
Jorinda  and  Jorindel.  '  Why  was  this  woman  sepa- 
rating the  girls  from  the  boys?  She  should  not  take 
away  Clem.  Let  her  try !  '  Hester  had  too  much 
tact.  Having  marshalled  the  others,  she  set  a  pen 
and  copy-book  before  Myra,  and  bending  over  Clem, 
asked  him  in  the  gentlest  voice  to  sit  and  wait ;  she 
would  come  back  to  him  in  n  moment  (she  promised) 
and  witli  a  pretty  game  for  him  to  play. 

"  Don't  you  listen  to  a  single  word  she  says," 
Myra  whispered ;  but  Clem  had  already  taken  his 
seat. 

183 


SHINING    FERRY 

Hester  had  sent  for  a  book  of  letters  in  raised 
type  for  the  blind  boy.  Before  setting  him  down  to 
this,  however,  she  wished  to  try  the  suppleness  and 
accuracy  of  his  touch  with  some  simple  reed-plaiting. 
The  reeds  lay  within  the  cupboard  across  the 
room.  She  went  to  fetch  them,  and  at  this  moment 
the  schoolroom  door  opened  behind  her. 

She  heard  the  lift  of  the  latch,  and  turned  with 
a  smile.  But  the  smile  faded  almost  at  once  as  she 
recognised  her  visitor.  It  was  Tom  Trevarthen,  and 
he  entered  with  a  grin  and  a  defiant,  jaunty  swagger 
which  did  not  at  all  become  him. 

In  an  instant  she  scented  danger,  and  felt  her 
cheeks  paling;  but  she  lifted  hor  head  none  the  less, 
looking  him  straight  in  the  eyes. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  Are  you  in  search  of 
someone  ?  " 

"  Seems  I'm  too  late  for  the  speechifying,"  said 
the  young  sailor,  avoiding  her  gaze,  and  winking  at 
two  or  three  elder  boys  on  the  back  benches.  "  Well, 
never  mind ;  must  do  a  little  speechifyin'  of  my  own, 
I  suppose.  By  your  leave,  miss,"  he  added,  seating 
himself  on  the  end  of  a  form  and  fanning  himself 
with  his  seaman's  cap,  which  he  had  duly  doffed  on 
entering. 

"  I  think,"  said  Hester  quietly,  and  prayed  that 
he  might  not  hear  the  tremble  in  her  voice,  "  I  think 

184 


TOM  TREVARTHEN  INTERVENES 

you  have  come  on  purpose  to  annoy,  and  that  you 
do  not  like  the  business." 

"  It's  this  way,  miss.  I've  no  grudge  at  all 
against  you,  except  to  wonder  how  such  a  gentle- 
spoken  young  lady  can  have  the  heart  to  come  here 
ruinin'  an  old  'ooman  that  naver  done  you  a  ha'p'orth 
of  harm  in  her  life."  He  was  looking  at  her  firmly 
now,  with  a  rising  colour  in  his  tan  cheeks,  and 
Hester's  heart  sank  as  she  noted  his  growing  con- 
fidence. "  But  I've  told  'ee  that  a'ready,"  he  said, 
and  turned  to  the  boys  again.  "  What  I  wonder  at 
more  is  you,  Billy  Sweet— an'  you,  Dave  Polseath — 
an'  you,  Rekkub  Johns — that'll  be  growin'  up  for 
men  in  a  year  or  two.  Seems  to  me  there's  some 
spirit  gone  out  o'  this  here  parish  since  I  used  to  be 
larrupped  for  minchin'.  Seems  to  me  a  passel  o' 
boys  in  my  day  would  have  had  summat  to  say  afore 
they  sat  here  quiet,  lielpin'  to  steal  the  bread  out 
of  an  old  'ooman's  mouth,  an'  runnin'  to  heel  for  a 
furriner." 

The  boys  glanced  at  one  another  and  grinned,  then 
at  the  intruder,  lastly  at  Hester.  Her  look  held 
them,  and  some  habit  of  discipline  learnt  from  the 
old  woman  they  were  being  invited  to  champion. 
One  or  two  began  shuffling   in  their  seats. 

But  it  was  Myra  who  led  the  rebellion.  She 
stepped  to  Tom's  side  at  once,  and  cried  she,  point- 

185 


SHINING   FERRY 

ing  a  finger  at  Hester,  "  Slie's  a  witch !  Look  at 
her — she's  a  witch  !  I  know  now  why  xinnt  Hannah 
called  it  a  burning  shame.  She's  robbing  ]\[other 
Butson,  and  she's  a  witch  and  ought  to  be  burnt. 
Come  along,  Clem  !  " 

Hester,  turning  from  the  child  between  pain  and 
disgust,  intent  only  on  holding  the  bigger  boys  in 
check  while  she  could,  did  not  note  that  Clem  made 
no  movement  to  obey  his  sister. 

"  Well  done,  Miss  Myra ! — though  you  needn't 
talk  vindictive.  There's  no  need  to  harm  her.  Now 
look  here,  boys !  Mother  Butson  gives  you  a  holi- 
day, and  sent  me  up  with  the  message.  What  do  'ee 
say  to  it  ?  " 

"  Stop !  "  Hester  lifted  a  hand  against  the  now 
certain  mutiny.  "  Your  name  is  Trevarthen,  I  be- 
lieve?" 

"  Tom  Trevarthen,  miss." 

"  Then,  Tom  Trevarthen,  you  are  a  poor  coward. 
Now  do  your  worst  and  go  your  way.  You  have 
heard  the  truth." 

"  'Tidn'  best  a  man  said  that  to  me,"  answered 
Tom,  with  a  lowering  brow. 

"  A  man  ?  "  she  replied,  with  a  short  laugh  of 
contempt  which  in  her  own  ears  sounded  like  a 
sob.  "There  were  men  here  just  now;  but  you 
waited  till  they  were  gone !  " 

186 


TOM  TREVARTHEJ^  INTERVENES 

"  No,  miss ;  I  did  not,  you'll  excuse  me.  I  only 
knew  the  school  was  to  open  to-day.  I  came  ashore 
half  an  hour  ago,  and  walked  up  here  across  the 
fields."  He  stood  for  a  second  or  two  meditatively 
twisting  his  round  cap  between  his  hands.  "  We'll 
play  fair,  though,"  he  said,  and  faced  round  on  the 
benches.  "  Sorry  to  disappoint  'ee,  boys,  but  you 
must  do  without  your  holiday,  after  all.  This  here  is 
a  man's  job,  as  Miss  Marvin  says,  and  'tis  for  men  to 
settle  it.  Only  " — he  turned  upon  Hester  again — 
"  you  must  name  your  man  quick.  My  ship  sails 
early  in  the  week ;  let  alone  that  there's  cruel 
wrong  being  done,  and  the  sooner  'tis  righted  the 
better." 

Hester's  hand  went  up  to  her  throat.  Was  this 
extraordinary  youth  actually  proposing  a  wager  of 
battle?  His  eyes  rested  on  hers  seriously;  his 
demeanour  had  become  entirely  courteous. 

"  Ah,"  she  gasped,  ''  but  cannot  you  see  that  the 
mischief  is  done !  You  behave  shamefully,  and  now 
you  talk  childishly.  You  have  made  these  cliildren 
disloyal,  and  what  hold  can  I  have  on  them  except 
through  their  loyalty?  You  have  thrown  mc  back 
at  the  start — I  cannot  bear  to  think  how  far — and 
you  talk  as  if  some  foolish  violence  could  mend  this 
for  me!  Please — please  go  away!  I  have  no  pa- 
tience to  argue  with  you." 

187 


SHINING    FERRY 

"Yes,  go  away!"  l)rokc  in  a  shrill  treble  voice. 
It  was  Clem's.  The  child  had  I'iscii  from  his  beiicli 
and  stood  up,  gripping  the  desk  in  front  and  tremb- 
ling. 

"  Clem  dear,  yon  don't  understand  " —  began 
Myra. 

"  Yes,  I  do  understand !  "  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life  his  will  clashed  with  hers.  '^  Tom  Tre- 
varthen  is  wrong,  and  ought  to  go  away." 

"  She's  a  nasty,  deceitful  witch  !  " 

"  She's  not  a  witch !  "  The  child's  eyes  turned 
towards  Hester,  as  if  seeking  to  behold  her  and  be 
assured.  "  You're  not  a  witch,  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  ; 
and  at  the  question  Hester's  tears,  so  long  held  back, 
brimmed  over. 

Before  she  could  answer  him  the  door  opened,  and 
Mr.  Sam  stood  in  the  entry  with  Mrs.  Purchase 
close  behind  his  shoulder,  in  a  sky-blue  and  orange 
bonnet. 

"  Eh  ?  IIullo  !  what's  all  this  ?  "  demanded  Mr. 
Sam,  staring  around  the  schoolroom ;  and  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase, bustling  in  and  mopping  her  face,  paused  too 
to  stare. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  ^Iv.  Sam's  eyes 
passed  over  Tom  Trevarthen  in  slow,  indignant  won- 
der, and  rested  on  Hester's  flushed  cheeks  and  tear- 
reddened  lids. 

188 


TOM  TREVARTHEN  INTERVENES 

"  Why,  whatever  on  earth  is  Tom  Trevarthen 
doin'  here  ?  "  cried  Mrs.  Purchase. 

"  I've  a-come  here,  ma'am,"  spoke  up  Tom,  kin- 
dling, "  to  say  a  word  against  a  cruel  shame ;  for 
shame  it  is,  to  take  the  food  away  from  a  poor  old 
'ooman's  mouth !  " 

"  Meanin'  Mother  Butson  ?  " 

"  Yes,  ma'am." 

"  An'  your  way  to  set  things  right  is  to  come 
here  and  browbeat  a  poor  girl  before  the  children 
till  her  eyes  be  pink  as  garden  daisies!  Go'st  'way 
home,  thou  sorry  fool !     I'm  ashamed  of  'ee  !  " 

"  As  for  that,  ma'am,  I  did  wrong,"  Tom  ad- 
mitted sullenly,  "and  I  beg  her  pardon  for't.  But 
it  don't  alter  the  hurt  to  Mother  Butson." 

"  You're  mistaken,  my  friend,"  broke  in  Mr.  Sam, 
in  his  rasping  voice.  "  To  be  sure  you  haven't  closed 
Mother  Butson's  school  for  hcr^  because  'tis  closed 
already.  Twopence  a  week  is  the  lowest  she  could 
ever  charge,  to  earn  a  living,  and  I  leave  to  judge 
how  many  sensible  folks  will  be  paying  twopence  a 
week  for  her  ignorance  wdien  they  can  get  sound 
teaching  up  here  for  a  penny.  But  a  worse  thing 
you've  done  for  her.  She  lodges  with  your  mother, 
I  believe  ?  Very  well ;  you  can  go  home  and  tell  your 
mother  to  get  rid  of  her  lodger.  Eh,  what  are  you 
staring  at  ?  " 

189 


SHINING    FERKY 

The  young  man  had  fallen  back,  and  stared  from 
face  to  face,  incredulous.  There  was  a  bewildered 
horror  in  his  eyes,  and  it  cut  Hester  to  the  heart.  Her 
own  eyes  sank  as  he  challenged  them. 

"  No,  Sam — no !  "  Mrs.  Purchase  interposed. 
"  Don't  'ee  go  to  punish  the  lad  that  way.  HeVe 
made  a  mistake;  but  he's  a  well-meanin'  lad  for  all, 
and  I'll  wage  he'll  tell  you  he's  sorry." 

"  Well-meaning,  is  it,  to  come  here  bullying  a 
young  lady?  Sorry,  is  he  ?  I  promise  he'll  be 
sorrier  before  I've  done.  Answer  me,  sir.  Did 
Mrs.  Butson  know  of  your  visit  here  to-day  ?  " 

"  I  told  her  I  Avas  coming,"  Tom  answered 
dully. 

"  That  settles  it.  Heaven  is  my  witness,"  said 
Mr.  Sam,  with  sudden  unction,  ''  I  was  willing  to  let 
the  old  woman  wind  up  her  affairs  in  peace.  But 
mutiny  I  don't  stand,  nor  molesting.  You  go  home, 
sir,  to  your  mother,  and  tell  her  my  words.  I  give 
her  till  Saturday  " — 

The  words  ended  in  a  squeal  as  Tom,  with  a  sharp 
intake  of  breath  like  a  sob,  sprang  and  gripped  him 
by  the  throat,  bearing  him  back  and  overturning 
Hester's  desk  with  a  crash.  One  or  two  of  the  girls 
began  to  scream.  The  boys  scrambled  on  top  of  their 
forms,  craning,  round-eyed  with  excitement.  The 
little  ones  stood  up  with  white  faces   shrieking  with 

190 


TOM  TREVARTHEI^  INTERVENES 

terror,  as  Hester  ran  and  placed  herself  between 
them  and  the   struggle. 

"  You  cur  !  You  miserable — dirty — cur  !  "  panted 
Tom,  shaking  Mr.  Sam  to  and  fro.  "  Leave  me 
alone,  missus !  " — for  Mrs.  Purchase  was  attempting 
to  clutch  him  by  the  collar.  "  Leave  me  deal  with 
him,  I  tell  you !     Stand  clear,  there  !  " 

With  a  sharp  thrust  he  loosened  his  hold,  and 
Mr.  Sam  went  flying  backwards,  missed  his  footing, 
and  fell,  his  head  striking  the  corner  of  a  form  with 
a  thud. 

"  Get  up !  ITp  on  your  legs,  and  have  it  out  like 
a  man !  " 

But  Mr.  Sam  lay  where  he  had  fallen  in  a  heap, 
with  the  blood  oozing  from  an  ugly  cut  across  the 
left  temple. 

"  Get  up  ?  "  vociferated  Mrs.  Purchase.  "  Lucky 
for  you  if  he  ever  gets  up !  You've  gone  nigh  to  kill- 
ing 'en,  mean  it  or  no.  Out  of  my  sight,  you  hot- 
headed young  fool !  Be  oif  to  the  ship,  pack  up  your 
kit,  and  run.  'Tis  a  jailin'  matter,  this ;  and  now 
you've  done  for  yourself  as  well  as  your  mother." 

For  a  moment  the  young  man  stared  at  her,  not 
seeming  to  comprehend.  "Eh,  missus?"  he  mut- 
tered.    "  Be  you  agcn'  me  too  ?  " 

Mrs.  Purchase  positively  laughed,  and  a  weird 
cackling  sound  it  made  in  Hester's  ears  as  she  bent 

191 


Slll.Xl.XG    FEKRY 

to  support  one  of  the  smaller  girls,  who  had  fainted. 
"  Agen'  you  ?  Take  an'  look  around  on  your  mornin's 
work !  You've  struck  down  my  brother's  son,  Tom 
Trevarthen — isn't  that  enough  ?  Go  an'  pack  your 
kit ;  I'll  have  no  jail-birds  aboard  my  ship." 

He  turned  and  went.  On  the  way  his  foot  en- 
countered Mr.  Sam's  tall  silk  hat,  and  he  kicked 
it  viciously  through  the  doorway  before  him. 

"  Tom !  " 

Until  the  call  had  been  repeated  twice  behind 
him  Tom  Trevarthen  did  not  hear.  When,  after  a 
stupid  stare  at  his  hands  (as  though  there  had  been 
blood  on  his  knuckles),  he  turned  to  the  voice,  he 
saw  Myra  speeding  bareheaded  to  overtake  him. 
She  beckoned  him  to  stop. 

"  What  will  you  do,  Tom  ?  "  she  panted,  as  he 
waited  for  her  to  come  up. 

''  Me,  missy?  Well,  I  hadn't  given  it  a  thought; 
but  now  you  mention  it,  1  s'pose  I'd  better  cut.  'Tis 
a  police  job,  most  like,  as  your  aunt  said.  But  never 
you  mind  for  me." 

The  name  of  the  police  sounded  terribly  in 
Myra's  ears. 

"The  Good  Itdenl  will  be  sailing  to-night;  I 
heard  Peter  Benny  say  so,"  she  suggested ;  "  and 
the  Mary  Rowett  to-morrow,  if  the  weather  holds." 

192 


TOM  TREVAETHEN  INTERVENES 

Tom  Trevartlien  nodded.  "  That's  so,  missy. 
Old  man  Hancock  of  the  Good  Intent  wants  a  hand, 
to  my  knowledge.  I'll  try  'en,  or  else  walk  to  Fal- 
mouth.    Don't  yon  fret  for  me,"  he  repeated. 

They  had  reached  the  gate  of  Hall,  over  which 
a  gigantic  chestnut  spread  its  branches.  As  Myra 
faced  Tom  Trevarthen  a  laugh  sounded  overhead ; 
and,  looking  up,  she  saw  Master  Calvin's  legs  and 
elastic-sided  boots  depending  from  a  green  bough. 

"  Hullo,  Myra !  "  Master  Calvin  called  down. 
"  How  d'you  get  on  up  at  the  Board  School  ?  " 

"  He  don't  go  to  Board  School,"  said  Tom  Tre- 
varthen, jerking  his  thumb  up  towards  the  bough. 
"  In  training  to  be  a  gentleman,  he  is ;  not  like  Master 
Clem.     Well,  good-bj^e,  missy !  " 

Myra  watched  him  down  the  road,  and,  as  he 
disappeared  at  the  bend,  flung  a  glance  up  at  the 
chestnut  tree. 

"  Come  down,"  she  commanded,  in  no  loud  voice, 
but  firmly. 

"  Shan't." 

"  What  are  you  doing  up  there  ?  "  She  sniffed 
the  air,  her  sense  of  smell  alive  to  a  strange  scent  in 
it.    "  You  nasty,  horrid  boy,  you're  smoking !  " 

"  I'm  not,"  answered  Master  Calvin  untruthfully, 
concealing  a  pipe.  "  I'm  up  here  pretending  to  be 
Zacchaeus." 

193 


SHINING    FERRY 

Myra  without  more  ado  pushed  open  the  gate  and 
went  up  the  path  to  the  house.  In  less  than  two 
ftiinutes  she  was  back  again. 

"  Come  down." 

"  Shan't." 

"  Very  well.    I'm  going  to  Zaccha3us  you." 

"  What's  that  in  your  hand  ?  " 

"  It's  grandfather's  powder-flask ;  and  I've  a  box 
of  matches,  too." 


194 


CHAPTEK  XIV 

MK.    SAM    IS    MAGNANIMOUS 

Hester's  cupboard  contained  a  small  case  of  plas- 
ters, lint,  ointments,  etc.,  for  childish  cuts  and  bruises. 
She  despatched  a  couple  of  boys  to  the  playground 
pump  to  fetch  water,  and  then  glanced  at  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase interrogatively. 

"  Better  send  for  a  doctor,  I  suppose  ? "  said 
Mrs.  Purchase. 

"  I  think,  if  we  bathe  the  wound,  we  can  tell  better 
what's  necessary.     Will  you —  ?  " 

"  I  reckon  the  job's  more  in  your  line.  You've 
the  look  o'  one  able  to  nurse — yes,  and  you've  the 
trick  of  it,  I  see,"  Mrs.  Purchase  went  on,  as  Hes- 
ter knelt,  lifted  the  sufferer's  head,  and  motioned  to 
the  boys  to  set  down  their  basin  of  water  beside  her. 
"  I'll  clear  the  children  out  to  the  playground  and 
keep  'em  quiet.  Call,  if  you  want  anything ;  I'll  be 
close  outside."  The  good  lady  shepherded  them  forth 
with  brisk  authority;  not  for  nothing  had  she  com- 
manded a  ship  these  thirty  years.    "  But,  Lord !  "  she 

195 


SHINIXG    FERRY 

muttered,  "to  think  of  iiic  playing  schoolmistress! 
What'll  I  do,  I  wonder,  if  these  varmints  of  boys 
break  ship  and  run  home  ?  " 

She  might  have  spared  herself  this  anxiety.  The 
children  were  all  agog  to  see  the  drama  out.  Would 
Mr.  Samuel  recover  ?  And,  if  not,  what  would  be 
done  to  Tom  Trevarthen  ?  They  discussed  this  in 
eager  groups.  If  any  of  them  had  an  impulse  to  run 
downhill  and  cry  the  news  through  the  village,  Mrs. 
Purchase's  determined  slamming  and  bolting  of 
the  playground  gate  restrained  it — that,  and  perhaps 
a  thought  that  by  running  with  the  news  they  would 
start  the  hue-and-cry  after  Tom. 

Hester,  having  sponged  away  the  blood,  found  that 
the  cut  on  ]\lr.  Sam's  temple  was  nothing  to  need 
a  doctor,  but  could  be  set  right  by  cleansing  and  a  few 
strips  of  plaster.  Doubtless  the  fall  had  stunned  him, 
and  doubtless  he  must  be  in  some  pain.  Yet  when 
at  length  he  groaned  and  opened  his  eyes  she  could 
not  repress  a  suspicion  (although  she  hated  herself  for 
it)  that  in  some  degree  he  had  been  shamming. 

"  Do  not  move,  please,"  she  commanded  gently, 
snipping  at  the  plaster  with  her  scissors.  "  A  couple 
of  strips  more,  then  a  bandage,  and  you  will  soon  be 
feeling  better." 

His  eyes  rolled  and  fixed  themselves  on  her. 
^'  A  ministering  angel,"  he  muttered.      She  caught 

196 


MR.    SAM    IS    MAGNANIMOUS 

the  words,  and  turned  her  head  aside  with  a  flush 
of  annoyance. 

"  You  have  an  ugly  bruise,"  she  told  him  sharply. 
"  I  am  going  to  put  a  cold  compress  on  it.  You  had 
better  close  your  eyes,  or  some  of  the  water  will  be 
trickling  into  them." 

He  closed  them  obediently,  but  asked,  "  He  has 
gone  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you  are  safe  at  least,  thank  God !  " 

Yes,  he  had  taken  his  hurt  in  protecting  her ;  and 
yet  something  in  his  tone  caused  her  to  glance,  and  as 
if  for  protection,  to  the  doorway. 

"  You  are  comely,"  he  went  on  slowly,  opening 
his  eyes  again,  and  again  rolling  that  embarrassing 
gaze  upon  her.  "  Your  fingers,  too,  have  the  gift  of 
healing." 

She  could  not  tell  him  with  what  repugnance  she 
brought  them  to  touch  him.  Having  fastened  the 
bandage  firmly,  she  turned  again  to  the  doorway  to 
summon  Mrs.  Purchase,  but  checked  herself. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  favour,"  she  began  in  a 
hesitating  voice. 

"  You  may  ask  it  confidently." 

"  I  want  you  to  forgive — no,  not  forgive ;  that 
is  the  wrong  word — to  be  generous,  and  not  to 
jmnish." 

197 


SHINING   FERRY 

Mr.  Samuel  blinked.  "  Let  him  off  ?  "  he  asked. 
"  Why  ?     What's  your  motive  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  that  there's  any  motive."  She 
met  his  eyes  frankly  enough,  but  with  a  musing  air 
as  if  considering  a  new  suggestion.  "  No ;  it's  just 
a  wish,  no  more.  An  hour  ago  it  seemed  to  me  that 
everyone  was  eager  and  happy ;  that  there  would 
always  be  pleasure  in  looking  back  upon  our  opening 
day."  Her  voice  trembled  a  little.  "  Now  this  has 
happened,  to  spoil  all;  and  yet  something  may  be 
saved  if  we  bear  no  malice,  but  take  up  the  work 
again,  and  show  that  we  waste  no  time  or  thought  on 
punishment,  being  determined  only  to  win." 

"  You  are  asking  a  great  deal  of  me,"  he  an- 
swered. Nevertheless  he  had  instantly  resolved  to 
grant  her  wish,  and  for  many  reasons.  "  T  suppose 
you  know  the  matter  is  serious  enough  for  a  warrant  ? 
Still,  if  I  shall  oblige  you  by  declining  to  prose- 
cute " — 

"  But  please  don't  put  it  in  that  way !  "  she  in- 
terrupted. 

"  I  really  don't  see  how  else  to  put  it."  He 
paused,  as  if  requiring  her  to  suggest  a  better.  "  The 
point  is,  you  want  me  to  let  the  fellow  off — eh  ? 
Well  then,  I  will." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Hester,  with  a  sigh. 

Mr.  Sam  smiled.     After  being  shaken  like  a  rat, 

198 


ME.    SAM    IS    MAGNAOTMOUS 

a  man  needs  to  retrieve  his  self-respect,  and  he  was 
retrieving  his  famously.  He  could  see  himself  in 
a  magnanimous  light:  he  had  laid  the  girl  under 
an  obligation ;  he  had  avoided  public  action  which 
would,  to  be  sure,  have  given  him  revenge,  but  at 
much  cost  of  dignity;  and,  for  the  rest,  he  had 
still  plenty  of  ways  to  get  even  with  Master  Tom 
Trevarthen. 

Hester  had  a  mind  to  tell  him  that  he  miscon- 
strued her ;  that  merely  to  abstain  from  pursuing  the 
lad  with  warrant  or  summons  neither  fulfilled  her 
request  nor  touched  the  kernel  of  it.  But  while  she 
cast  about  for  words  Mrs.  Purchase  thrust  a  cheer- 
ful head  in  at  the  doorway. 

"  Hullo,  that's  famous !  "  she  exclaimed  at  sight 
of  the  bandaging.  "  You're  a  clever  woman,  my 
dear;  and  now  I'll  ask  you  to  bring  your  cleverness 
outside  here  and  take  these  children  off  my  hands. 
W'st,  you  little  numskulls !  " — she  turned  and  ad- 
dressed them — "  keep  quiet,  I  say,  with  your  moun- 
tains out  of  molehills!  There's  no  one  killed  nor 
hurt;  only  a  foolish  lad  lost  his  temper,  and  he'll 
smart  for  it,  and  I  hope  it'll  be  a  warning  to  you." 
She  poked  her  head  in  through  the  doorway  again. 
"  Come  along,  Sam,  and  show  yourself.  And  as  for 
you,  my  dear,"  she  went  on  hurriedly,  lowering  her 
voice,  "  better  get  'em  back  to  their  work  as  if  nought 

199 


SHINING   FERRY 

had  liappened.  I'll  bide  a  while  with  jou  till  you 
have  'em  in  hand  again." 

"  Thank  yon,"  said  Hester ;  "  but  that  wouldn't 
help  nie  in  the  long-run.     I  must  manage  them  alone." 

"  You  mean  that  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  thank  you  none  the  less." 

"  And  you're  right.  You're  a  plucky  woman." 
She  turned  to  Mr.  Sam  briskly,  "  Well,  take  my 
arm  and  put  on  as  light  a  face  as  you  can.  Here's 
your  hat — I've  smoothed  out  the  worst  of  the  dents. 
Eh  ?    Bain't  goin'  to  make  a  speech,  surely !  " 

Mr.  Sam,  leaning  sliglitly  on  his  aunt's  arm, 
pulled  himself  up  on  the  threshold  and  surveyed  the 
children's  wondering  faces. 

"  Boys  and  girls,"  he  said,  "  our  opening  day  has 
been  spoilt  by  a  scene  on  which  I  won't  dwell,  because 
I  desire  you  not  to  dwell  on  it.  If  you  treat  it  lightly, 
as  I  intend  to  do,  bearing  no  malice,  we  shall  show 
the  world  all  the  more  clearly  that  we  are  in  earnest 
about  things  which  really  matter." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  looked  around  with  a 
challenging  smile  at  Hester,  who  watched  him,  won- 
dering to  hear  her  own  words  so  cleverly  repeated. 

"  We  wish,"  he  proceeded,  "  to  remember  our 
opening  day  as  a  pleasant  one.  Miss  Marvin  espe- 
cially wishes  to  look  back  on  it  with  pleasure;  and  I 
think  we  all  ought  to  help  her.     Now  if  I  say  no 

200 


ME.    SAM    IS    MAGNANIMOUS 

more  about  this  foolish  young  man — whom  I  could 
punish  very  severely — will  you  promise  me  to  go  back 
to  your  books  ?  To-day,  as  you  know,  is  a  half -holi- 
day ;  but  there  remains  an  hour  for  work  before  you 
disperse.  I  want  your  word  that  you  will  employ  it 
well,  and  honestly  try  to  do  all  that  Miss  Marvin  tells 
you." 

He  paused  again,  and  chose  to  take  a  slight  mur- 
mur among  the  children  for  their  assent. 

"  I  thank  you.  There  is  an  old  saying  that  he 
who  conquers  himself  performs  a  greater  feat  than  he 
who  takes  a  city.  Some  of  us,  Miss  Marvin,  may 
hereafter  associate  the  lesson  with  this  our  opening 
day." 

He  seemed  to  await  some  reply  to  this  ;  but  Hester 
could  not  speak,  even  to  thank  him.  Her  spirit  re- 
coiled from  him ;  she  could  not  reconcile  egoism  so 
inordinate  with  such  cleverness  in  turning  it  to  ac- 
count. She  watched  him  with  a  certain  fascination, 
as  one  watches  some  trained  monster  in  a  show  dis- 
playing its  deformity  for  public  a]i])lause.  He  shook 
hands  with  her  and  made  his  exit,  not  without  dig- 
nity, leaning  on  Mrs.  Purchase's  arm  and  turning  at 
the  playground  gate  to  wave  farewell. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  cliildren  understood  his 
speech.  But  tliey  were  awed.  At  the  word  of  com- 
mand they  trooped  into  school,  settled  themselves  at 

201 


SHINING    FERRY 

their  desks,  and  took  up  their  interrupted  lessons  with 
a  docility  at  which  Hester  wondered,  since  for  the 
moment  she  herself  had  lost  all  power  to  interest  or 
amuse  them. 

For  her  that  was  a  dreadful  hour.  A  couple  of 
humble-bees  zoomed  against  the  window  pane,  and  the 
sound,  with  the  ticking  of  the  schoolroom  clock,  took 
possession  of  her  brain.  Z-zoom!  Tick-tack,  tick- 
tack  !  Would  lesson-time  never  come  to  an  end  ?  She 
went  about  automatically  correcting  sums,  copies, 
exercises,  because  the  sight  of  the  pencilled  words  or 
figures  steadied  her  faculties,  whereas  she  felt  that  if 
she  called  the  children  up  in  class  her  wits  would 
wander  and  all  answers  come  alike  to  her,  rijrht  or 
Avrong.  Her  will,  too,  had  fallen  into  a  strange  drow- 
siness. She  wanted  the  window  open,  to  get  rid  of 
the  humble-bees ;  a  word  to  one  of  the  elder  bovs  and 
it  would  be  done.  Yet  the  minutes  passed  and  the 
word  remained  unspoken.  So  a  sick  man  will  lie  and 
debate  with  himself  so  small  a  thing  as  the  lifting  of 
a  hand. 

At  length  the  clock  hands  pointed  to  five  minutes 
to  noon.  She  ordered  books  to  be  shut  and  slates  to 
be  put  away ;  and  going  to  the  harmonium,  gave  out 
the  hymn,  "  Lord,  dismiss  us  with  Thy  blessing." 
The  Managers  had  agreed  upon  this  hymn ;  the  Non- 
conformist majority  insisting,  however,  that  the  con- 

202 


ME.    SAM    IS    MAGNANIMOUS 

eluding  "  Amen  "  should  be  omitted.  Omitted  accord- 
ingly it  was  on  the  slips  of  paper  printed  for  school 

use. 

**  Lord,  dismiss  us  with  Thy  blessing, 

Thanks  for  mercies  past  receive  ; 

Pardon  all  their  faults  confessing  ; 

Time  that's  lost  may  all  retrieve  ; 

May  Thy  children 

Ne'er  again  Thy  Spirit  grieve. " 

The  children,  released  from  the  dull  strain  of 
watching  the  clock,  sang  with  spirit.  Hester  played 
on,  inattentive  to  the  words.  At  the  end,  without  con- 
sidering what  she  did,  she  pressed  down  the  chords  of 
the  "  Amen,"  and  the  singers  joined  in,  all  unaware 
of  transgressing. 

In  the  silence  that  followed  she  suddenly  remem- 
bered her  instructions  to  omit  the  word,  and  sat  for 
a  moment  flushed  and  confused.  But  the  deed  was 
done.  The  children  stood  shuffling  their  feet,  await- 
ing the  signal  of  dismissal. 

"  You  may  go,"  she  said.  "  We  will  do  better 
to-morrow." 

When  their  voices  had  died  away  down  the  road 
she  closed  the  harmonium  softly,  and  fell  to  walking 
to  and  fro,  musing,  tidying  up  the  schoolroom  by  fits 
and  starts.  She  wanted  to  sit  down  and  have  a  good 
cry ;  but  always  as  the  tears  came  near  to  flowing  she 
fell  to  work  afresh  and  checked  them.    Not  until  the 

203 


SHINING    FERRY 

room  looked  neat  again  did  she  remember  that  she 
was  hungry.  Nnncey  had  cooked  a  pasty  for  her, 
and  she  fetched  it  from  the  cupboard,  where  it  lay 
in  a  basket  covered  by  a  spotless  white  cloth.  As  she 
did  so,  her  eyes  fell  on  a  damp  spot  on  the  floor  where, 
after  bandaging  Mr.  Sam,  she  had  carefully  washed 
out  the  stain  of  his  blood. 

She  looked  at  her  hands.  They  were  clean ;  and 
yet,  having  set  down  the  basket  on  the  desk  and  turned 
her  stool  so  that  she  might  not  see  the  spot  on  the  floor, 
she  continued  to  stare  at  them,  and  from  them  to  the 
white  cloth.  A  while  she  stood  thus,  irresolute,  still 
listening  to  the  bees  zooming  against  the  pane.  Then 
with  a  sudden  effort  of  will  she  walked  out  and  across 
the  yard,  to  the  pump  in  tlio  far  corner. 

She  was  stooping  to  raise  the  pump  handle,  but 
straightened  herself  up  again  at  the  soimd — as  it 
seemed  to  her — of  a  muffled  sol). 

She  looked  l)eliin(l  her  and  around.  The  play- 
ground was  empty,  the  air  across  its  gravelled  surface 
quivering  under  the  noonday  heat.     She  listened. 

Two  long  minutes  passed  before  the  sound  was 
repeated;  and  this  time  she  knew  it  for  the  sol)  of  a 
child.  It  came  from  behind  an  angle  of  the  building 
which  hid  a  strip  of  the  playground  from  view.  She 
I'iiii  thither  at  once,  and  as  she  turned  the  corner  her 
eyes  fell  on  little  Clem. 

204 


MR.    SAM    IS    MAGNANIMOUS 

She  had  missed  him  from  his  place  when  the  chil- 
dren returned  to  the  schoolroom.  His  sister,  she  sup- 
posed, had  taken  him  home. 

He  stood  sentry  now  in  the  shade  under  the  north 
wall  of  the  building.  He  stood  there  so  resolutely 
that,  for  the  instant,  Hester  could  scarcely  believe  the 
sobs  had  come  from  him.  But  he  had  heard  her  com- 
ing; and  the  face  he  turned  to  her,  though  tearless, 
was  woefully  twisted  and  twitching. 

"  My  poor  child  !  " 

He  stretched  out  both  hands. 

"  Where  is  Myra  ?    I  want  Myra,  please !  " 


205 


CHAPTEE  XV 


MYRA    IN    DISGRACE 


Myra  Avas  in  her  bedroom,  mider  lock  and  key; 
and  this  is  how  it  had  happened. 

"  What  put  it  into  your  head  to  make  that 
speech  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Purchase,  as  she  and  Mr.  Sam 
wended  their  way  back  to  IlaU.  In  form  the  question 
was  addressed  to  her  nephew ;  in  tone,  to  herself. 

Mr.  Sam  paused  as  if  for  breath,  and  plucking 
down  a  wisp  of  honeysuckle  from  the  hedgerow, 
sniffed  at  it  to  gain  time. 

"  I  don't  like  talking  about  such  things,"  he  an- 
swered;  "but  it  came  into  my  head  to  do  my  Mas- 
ter's bidding:  '  Bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good 
to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  that  de- 
spitefully  use  you.'  " 

"  Fiddlestick-end  !  "  said  Mrs.  Purchase. 

"  I  assure  you  " — 

"  If  you  don't  mean  to  get  upsides  with  Tom  Tre- 
varthen,  I'm  a  Dutchman.  '  Forgive  your  enemies,' 
may  be  gospel  teaching,  but  T  never  know  a  Rose- 
warne  to  practise  it.     You're  a  clever  fellow,  nephew 

206 


MYEA    IN   DISGRACE 

Sam,  and  that  speech  saved  your  face,  as  the  Yan- 
kees say;  but  somehow  I've  a  notion  its  cleverness 
didn't  end  there.  I  saw  the  schoolmistress  watching 
you — did  she  put  you  up  to  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  she  had  inter- 
ceded with  me." 

"  I  like  the  cut  of  that  girl's  jib,"  Mrs.  Purchase 
announced  after  a  pause.  "  She's  good-looking,  and 
she  has  pluck.  But  I  don't  take  back  what  I  said, 
that  it's  a  wrong  you're  doing  to  Clem  and  Myra,  put- 
ting them  to  school  with  all  the  riff-raff  of  the  parish." 

"  That's  the  kind  of  objection  one  learns  to  ex- 
pect from  a  Radical,"  her  nephew  answered  drily. 

"  'Tis  a  queer  thing,  now,"  she  mused,  "  that  ever 
since  I  married  'Siah  the  family  will  have  me  to  be  a 
Radical;  and  'tis  the  queerer,  because  ne'er  one  of 
'ee  knows  what  a  Radical  is  or  ought  to  be.  S'pose  I 
do  hold  that  all  mankind  and  all  womankind  has  equal 
rights  under  the  Lord — that  don't  mean  they're  all 
alike,  do  it  ?  or  that  I  can't  tell  a  man  from  a  woman, 
or  my  lord  from  a  scavenger  ?  D'ee  reckon  that  we'm 
all-fellows-to-football  aboard  the  Virtuous  Lady,  and 
the  fo'c'sle  hands  mess  aft  ?  " 

"  They  would  if  you  were  consistent,"  answered 
Mr.  Sam,  with  positiveness. 

She  sighed  impatiently.  "  There's  times  you 
make  me  long  to  wring  your  stiff  neck.    But  I'll  take 

207 


SHINING    FERRY 

your  own  consistency,  as  you  call  it.  I  don't  notice 
you  send  that  precious  boy  o'  yourn  to  the  Board 
School;  and  yet  if  'tis  good  enough  for  Clem  and 
Myra,  'tis  good  enough  for  any  Rosewarne." 

"  Calvin  has  received  a  superior  education.  Yet 
I  don't  mind  telling  you  that,  if  I  find  Miss  Marvin 
competent,  I  propose  asking  her  to  teach  him  pri- 
vately." 

"  O — oh !  "  Mrs.  Purchase  pursed  up  her  lips 
and  eyed  him  askance.  "  Such  a  nice-looking  girl, 
too !  " 

Mr.  Sam  flushed  beneath  his  sallow  skin.  lie 
was  about  to  command  her  angrily  to  mind  her  own 
business,  when  the  air  between  the  hedgerows,  and 
even  the  road  beneath  his  feet,  shook  with  a  dull  and 
distant  detonation. 

"  Sakes  alive !  "  cried  Mrs.  Purchase.  "  Don't 
tell  me  that's  the  powder-ship,  up  the  river  !  " 

"  It  didn't  come  up  from  the  river — it  came  from 
Hall !  "  He  gripped  her  arm  with  sudden  excite- 
ment ;  then,  as  she  began  to  protest,  "  Don't  talk, 
woman,  but  help  me  along!  It  came  from  Hall,  I 
tell  you !  " 

Master  Calvin  defied  Myra  bravely  enough  while 
she  threatened,  and  even  while  she  piled  a  little  heap 
of  gunpowder  under  the  sycamore  and  ostentatiously 

208 


MYRA    IN    DISGRACE 

sprinkled  a  train  of  it  across  the  roadway.  He  sup- 
posed that  she  intended  only  to  frighten  him. 

I^or  would  any  mischief  have  happened  had  he 
kept  his  perch.  The  heap  of  gunpowder  was  too  small 
to  do  serious  damage — though  he  may  well  be  ex- 
cused for  misdoubting  this.  But  when  Myra  struck 
a  match  and  challenged  him  for  the  last  time,  he 
called  to  her  not  to  play  the  fool,  and  began  to  scram- 
ble down  for  dear  life.  In  truth,  for  two  or  three  min- 
utes he  had  been  feeling  strangely  giddy,  and  to  make 
matters  worse,  Avas  suddenly  conscious  of  a  horrible 
burning  pain  in  his  side. 

So  intolerable  was  the  pain,  that  he  clutched  at  it 
with  one  hand ;  and  missing  his  hold  with  the  other, 
slipped  and  hung  dangling  over  the  powder,  supported 
only  by  the  bough  under  the  crook  of  his  armpit.  At 
that  instant,  while  he  struggled  to  recover  his  balance, 
Myra  was  horrified  to  see  smoke  curling  about  his 
jacket;  a  ficr^'  shred  of  tobacco  and  jacket-lining 
dropped  from  liis  plucking  fingers.  She  had  flung 
awav  her  match  and  was  runnino;  forward — the  burn- 
ing  stuff  fell  so  slowly,  there  was  almost  time  to  catch 
it — Avhcn  the  ground  at  her  feet  leapt  up  with  a  flame 
and  a  bang,  and  Master  Calvin  thudded  down  upon 
the  explosion. 

She  ran  to  him.  He  was  not  dead,  for  at  once 
he  began  screaming  at  the  j)itch  of  his  voice j  but  his 

209 


siiini:n'g  ferey 

features  were  black,  his  smallclothes  torn,  and  his  legs 
writhed  in  a  terrifying  way.  His  screams  sank  to 
groans  as  she  beat  out  the  smouldering  fire  in  his 
jacket-lining;  and  for  a  while  she  could  get  no  other 
answer  from  him. 

By  and  by  she  lost  patience,  and  shook  him  by  the 
shoulder. 

"  Oh,  get  up  for  goodness'  sake !  I  believe  you're 
more  frightened  than  hurt ;  but  if  you're  really  hurt, 
sit  up  and  tell  me  what's  the  matter." 

"  Let  me  alone,"  groaned  Calvin.  "  I  want  to 
die." 

"  Fiddlesticks — '  want  to  die '  !  Come  along  to 
the  pump  and  wash  yourself." 

"  You're  a  wicked  girl !     You  tried  to  kill  me !  " 

"  I  didn't.  I  wanted  to  frighten  you,  and — and 
I'm  sorry;  but  you  fired  the  powder  yourself  with 
your  nasty  pipe,  and  you've  burnt  a  hole  in  your 
pocket.  You'd  best  come  along  and  get  washed  and 
changed  before  your  father  catches  you.  It  looks  to 
me  you've  lost  one  of  your  eyebrows,  but  the  other 
one's  so  pale  1  daresay  'twon't  be  noticed.  Or  I 
might  give  you  a  pair  with  a  piece  of  burnt  cork." 

It  was  while  she  stood  considering  this  that  Mr. 
Sam  and  her  aunt  made  their  appearance  round  the 
corner  of  the  road. 

"  Whatever  in  the  round  world  have  you  children 

210 


MYEA    IN   DISGRACE 

been  doin'  ?  "  panted  Mrs.  Purchase,  and  wound  up 
with  a  gasp  at  sight  of  Calvin's  face. 

"  I  believe  I'm  going  to  die !  "  The  boy  began 
to  writhe  again. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  his  father  demanded, 
with  a  shake  in  the  voice,  stooping  to  lift  him. 

"  She — she  tried  to  kill  me !  "  Calvin  pointed  at 
her  with  vindictive  finger,  and  at  once  clasped  both 
hands  over  his  stomach. 

"  I  did  not,"  retorted  Myra. 

"  Ask  her  who  brought  the  powder  and  laid  a  train 
right  under  me !  Ask  her  what  she's  doing  with  that 
box  of  matches !  " 

"  Is  that  true  ? "  Mr.  Sam  demanded  again, 
straightening  himself  up  and  fixing  a  terrible  stare 
on  Myra. 

The  girl's  face  hardened.  "  Yes,  I  brought  the 
powder."  She  pointed  to  the  flask  lying  in  the 
roadway. 

"  You  dare  to  tell  me  that  you  did  this  deliber- 
ately?" 

"  I  never  did  it  at  all." 

"  Yes,  she  did !  "  almost  screamed  the  boy.  "  She 
put  the  powder  here;  she  owns  up  to  it." 

Myra  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  turned  away. 
"  Very  well;  he's  tolling  a  nasty  fib,  but  you  can  be- 
lieve him  if  you  like." 

211 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Stop  a  minute,  miss."  Mr.  Sam  strode  across 
to  her.    "  You  don't  get  off  in  that  fashion,  I  promise 

you!" 

She  looked  up  at  him  sidewise,  under  lowered 
brows.  "  Are  you  going  to  beat  me  ?  "  she  asked 
quietly. 

The  question  took  Mr.  Sam  aback.  "  You  deserve 
a  whipping  if  ever  a  girl  did,"  he  answered,  after  a 
second  or  two.  "  First,  it  seems,  you  almost  succeed 
in  killing  your  cousin,  and  then  you  tell  a  falsehood 
about  it." 

"  I  have  told  you  the  truth.  I  put  the  powder 
there.  As  for  meaning  to  kill  him,  that's  nonsense, 
and  he  knows  it.  I  didn't  even  mean  to  hurt  him, 
though  he  deserves  it." 

"  Deserves  it !  "  echoed  Mr.  Sam. 

"  Yes,  for  robbing  Clem." 

"  Sam — Sam  !  "  Mrs.  Purchase  thrust  herself 
between  them.  '' What's  the  matter  ?  Don't  go  for 
to  hurt  the  child !  " 

"  What — what  docs  she  mean,  then  ?  "  He  had 
stretched  out  a  hand  to  grip  Myra  by  the  shoulder, 
but  fell  back  with  a  yellow  face. 

"  Tom  Trevarthen  told  me."  Myra  pointed  from 
father  to  son.  "  He  says  you're  no  better  than  a  pair 
of  robbers." 

"  Myra,"  said  her  aunt  quietly,  "  go  to  your  room 

212 


MYEA    IN    DISGRACE 

at  once.    On  your  own  confession  you  have  done  wick- 
edly, and  must  be  punished," 

"  Very  well,  Aunt  Hannah." 

"  I  must  attend  to  Calvin  first ;  but  I  will  come  to 
you  by  and  by.  Until  then  you  are  not  to  leave  your 
room.     Do  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Aunt  Hannah." 

She  turned  and  walked  towards  the  house. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mrs.  Purchase,  after  a  glance 
at  Mr.  Sam's  face,  "  let's  see  what  bones  are  broken." 
She  bent  over  Calvin,  but  looked  up  almost  imme- 
diately, as  Mr.  Sam  uttered  a  sharp  exclamation. 

"  What's  this  ?  "  he  asked,  stooping  to  pick  up  a 
briar  pipe. 

Master  Calvin  blinked,  and  turned  his  head  aside 
from  Mrs.  Purchase's  curious  gaze. 

"  I  think  it  belongs  to  Tom  Trevarthen,"  he 
mumbled. 

"  How  on  the  airth  did  Tom  Trevarthen  come  to 
drop  a  pipe  here,  and  walk  off  'ithout  troubling 
to  pick  it  up  ?  If  'twas  a  hairpin,  now,"  said 
Mrs.  Purchase,  not  very  lucidly,  "  one  could  under- 
stand it." 

"  I — I'm  going  to  be  ill,"  wailed  the  wretched 
Calvin,  with  a  spasmodic  heave  of  the  shoulders. 

"  Well,"  his  aunt  commented  grimly  after  a 
moment,  "  you  told  the  truth  that  time,  anyway." 

213 


STIIXIXG    FERRY 

1  laving  convoyed  liiiii  to  the  house  and  put  him, 
"Nvith  SusannalTs  hcl]),  lo  Ixd,  Aunt  Hannah  went  off 
to  Myra's  rodni,  hut  (h'sccnded  after  a  few  minutes 
in  search  of  Mr,  Sam,  whom  she  found  pacing  the  gar- 
den walk. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I've  told  her  the  punishment — hread  and  water, 
and  to  keep  her  room  all  day.  She  says  nothing 
against  it,  and  I  think  she's  sorry  about  the  powder ; 
hut  I  can  get  no  sense  into  her  until  her  mind's  set  at 
rest  about  riom." 

"What  about  him?" 

"  Why,  the  poor  child's  left  behind  at  the  school." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  Miss  Marvin  will  bring  him  home, 
no  doubt," 

"  So  I  told  her.  But  it  seems  she  don't  trust 
Miss  Marvin — hates  her,  in  fact." 

"  The  child  must  be  crazed." 

"  Couldn't  you  send  Peter  Benny  ?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly,  if  you  wish  it."  Mr.  Sam  went 
indoors  to  the  counting-house,  where  Mr.  Benny 
jumped  up  from  his  desk  in  alarm  at  sight  of  the 
bandages. 

"  Mercy  on  us,  sir — you  have  met  with  an  acci- 
dent ?  " 

"  A  trifle.    Are  you  busy  just  now  ?  " 

Mr.  Benny  blushed.     "  I  might  answer  in  your 

214 


MYRA    IN    DISGRACE 

words,  sir — a  trifle.  Indeed,  I  hope,  sir,  you  vnW 
not  think  it  a  liberty ;  but  the  late  Mr.  Rosewarne 
used  very  kindly  to  allow  it  when  no  business  hap- 
pened to  be  doing." 

His  employer  stared  at  him  blankly. 
"  On  birthdays  and  such  occasions,"  pursued  Mr. 
Benny.     "  And  by  the  way,  sir,  might  I  ask  you  to 
favour  me  with  the  date  of  your  birthday  ?     Your 
dear  father's  was  the  18th  of  May."    Mr.  Sam's  stare 
lost  its  blankness,  and  became  one  of  sharp  suspicion. 
"  What  have  you  to  do  with  my  birthday,  pray  ?  " 
"  Nothing,   sir — nothing,   unless   it   pleases  you. 
Some  of  our  best  and  greatest  men,  sir,  as  I  am  well 
aware — the  late  Duke  of  Wellington,  for  instance — 
have  had  a  distaste  for  poetry ;  not  that  my  verses  de- 
serve any  such  name." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mr.  Sam,  his  brow  clearing,  "  you 
were  talking  of  verses  ?  I've  no  objection,  so  long  as 
you  don't  ask  me  to  read  them."  He  paused,  as  Mr. 
Benny's  face  lengthened  dejectedly.  "  I  mean  no  re- 
flection on  yours,  Benny." 
"  I  thank  you,  sir." 

"  Shakespeare — and  I  am  told  you  can't  get  better 
poetry  than  Shakespeare's — doesn't  please  me  at  all. 
I  tried  him  once,  on  a  friend's  recommendation,  and 
came  on  a  passage  which  I  don't  hesitate  to  call  las- 
civious.    I  told  my  friend  so,  and  advised  him  to  be 

215 


SHINING   FERRY 

more  careful  in  the  reading  he  recommended.  lie 
was  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  too.  1  destroyed  the 
hook:  one  can't  he  too  careful,  with  children  about 
the  house." 

"  I  assure  you,  sir  " — 

"  I  don't  suggest  for  a  moment  that  you  would  be 
guilty  of  any  such  expressions  as  Shakespeare  uses. 
We  live  in  a  different  age.  Still,  poetry,  as  such,  gives 
me  no  pleasure.  I  believe  very  firndy,  Benny — as 
you  may  have  gathered — in  another  world,  and  that 
we  shall  be  held  strictly  to  account  there  for  all  we 
do  or  say  in  this  one." 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  If  you  will  wait  a  moment,  I  have  a  note  to 
write.  You  will  deliver  it,  please,  to  Mrs.  Trevarthen 
on  your  way  home.  But  first  I  wish  you  to  walk  up  to 
the  school  and  fetch  Master  Clem." 

Mr.  Benny,  absorbed  in  poetical  composition,  had 
either  failed  to  hear  the  explosion  at  the  gate,  or  had 
heard  and  paid  no  heed  to  it.  He  wondered  why 
Master  Clem  should  need  to  be  fetched  from  school. 

"  And  Miss  Myra  ?  "  he  suggested. 

"  Miss  Myra  has  been  sent  to  her  room  in  dis- 
grace," said  Mr.  Sam. 

Mr.  Benny  asked  no  further  questions,  but  pock- 
eted the  letter  which  Mr.  Sam  indited,  and  fetched  his 
hat.     As  it  happened,  however,  at  the  gate  he  met 

216 


MYKA    IN    DISGRACE 

Hester  leading  Clem  by  the  hand ;  and  receiving  the 
child  from  her,  handed  him  over  to  Susannah. 

"  You  are  going  home  ?  "  he  asked,  as  he  rejoined 
Hester  at  the  gate.    They  were  already  warm  friends. 

"  I  am  on  my  way.    And  you  ?  " 

"  We'll  cross  the  ferry  together,  if  you'll  wait  a 
moment  while  I  deliver  a  note  at  Mrs.  Trevarthen's." 

Mrs.  Trevarthen  was  at  her  door.  She  took  the 
note,  and,  before  opening  it,  looked  at  Hester  curi- 
ously. 

"  You  know  what's  inside  of  it,  I  reckon  ?  "  she 
said,  turning  to  Mr.  Benny. 

"  IsTot  a  word." 

"  My  eyes  are  bad,"  said  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  who, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  could  not  read. 

Mr.  Benny  knew  this,  and  knew  also  that  Mrs. 
Trevarthen  as  a  rule  employed  Aunt  Butson  to  write 
her  few  letters  and  decipher  the  few  that  came  to  her. 

"  The  light's  bad  for  the  time  of  year,"  he  said. 
"  Shall  I  read  it  for  you,  missus  ?  " 

"  No ;  let  her  read  it,"  answered  the  old  woman, 
holding  out  the  letter  to  Hester.  Hester  took  it  and 
read — 

"  Madam, — This  is  to  inform  you  that  the  rent  of 
my  cottage,  at  present  oecu])ied  by  you  on  a  monthly 
tenancy  at  £9  per  annum,  will  from  the  first  of  next 

217 


SHINING    FERRY 

month  be  raised  to  £15;  also  that  the  tenancy  will 
not,  after  that  date,  carry  with  it  a  permission  to  let 
lodgings. — Yours  truly,  S.  Rosewarne." 

In  the  silence  that  followed  Mrs.  Trevarthen  fixed 
her  bright  beady  eyes  steadily  on  Hester.  "  You've 
driven  forth  my  son  from  me,"  she  said  at  length, 
"  and  you're  driving  forth  my  lodger,  and  there's 
nobbut  the  almshouse  left.  Never  a  day's  worry  has 
my  son  Tom  given  to  me,  and  never  a  ha'porth  o' 
harm  have  we  done  to  you.  A  foreigner  you  are  and 
a  stranger ;  the  lad  made  me  promise  not  to  curse  'ee, 
and  I  won't.  But  get  out  of  my  sight,  and  the  Lord 
deliver  us  from  temptation  ! — Amen." 

Poor  Mr.  Benny,  who  had  written  half  a  dozen 
enthusiastic  verses  on  the  opening  of  the  new  school, 
crushed  them  down  in  his  pocket.  He  had  been  so 
proud  of  them,  too! 

They  ran — 

"  This  morning  the  weather  was  wreathed  in  smiles, 
And  we,  correspondingly  gay, 
Assembled  together  from  several  miles 
To  welcome  our  Opening  Day. 

The  children  were  plastic  in  body  and  mind, 

Their  faces  and  pinafores  clean  ; 
And  persons  scholastic,  in  accents  refmed, 

With  eloquence  pointed  the  scene. 

218 


MYRA    IN^    DISGEx\CE 

Blest  scene  !  as  its  features  we  fondly  recall, 
O  let  us  give  thanks  to  the  Lord  ! 

The  Parents,  the  Teacher,  the  Managers  all, 
Including  the  Clerk  to  the  Board  !  " 


219 


BOOK   III 


CHAPTER   XVI 

AUNT   BUTSON   CLOSES   SCHOOL 

Next  morning  when  Hester  arrived  at  the  school 
she  found  Mr.  Sam  waiting  for  her,  with  Mjra, 
Clem,  and  a  lanky,  freckled  youth  of  about  sixteen, 
whom  he  introduced  as  Archelaus  Libby.  She  could 
not  help  a  smile  at  this  odd  name,  and  the  young  man 
himself  seemed  to  be  conscious  of  its  absurdity.  He 
blushed,  held  out  his  hand  and  withdrew  it  again, 
dropped  his  hat  and  caught  it  awkwardly  between 
his  knees.  Myra  (who  had  made  the  sign  of  the 
cross  as  Hester  entered)  stood  and  regarded  him  with 
a  cold,  contemptuous  interest.  Her  uncle  presented 
the  poor  fellow  with  a  proprietary  wave  of  the  hand, 
as  though  he  had  been  a  dumb  animal  recently 
purchased. 

"  I  telegraphed  to  Liskeard  on  my  own  responsi- 
bility. The  Managers  may  take  me  to  task ;  but  I 
felt  it  to  be  imperative  that  you  should  have  a  male 
teacher  to  support  you,  and  at  once.  At  all  costs  we 
must  prevent  a  repetition  of  such  scenes  as  yester- 
day's." 

223 


STITXrXG    FKTIRY 

Doubtless  he  IkuI  done  Hester  a  service,  and  she 
tried  to  ex])ress  her  tlwniks,  hut  did  not  succeed  very 
well.  r<>  l)('i;iii  'vvith,  her  spirit  being  roused,  she 
desired  iii>  ludp;  and  to  judge  by  ^Fr.  Archelaus 
Libby's  looks,  tlie  lid])  he  could  give  proniis(Hl  to  ])o 
ineffective.  She  did  not  say  this,  of  course ;  and 
he  gazed  at  her  so  wistfully  that  she  reproached  her- 
self for  thinking  it. 

Mr.  Sam  had  no  such  scruples.  "  I  telegraphed 
to  Liskeard,"  he  repeated.  '^  There  was  no  time  for 
a  personal  interview."  (ITe  paused,  with  a  deprecat- 
ing wave  of  the  hand,  as  who  shall  say,  "  And  this 
is  what  they  sent.")  "  If,"  he  continued,  "you  find 
him  unequal  to  maintaining  discipline,  we — ha — 
must  take  other  steps.  In  other  respects  I  find  him 
satisfactory.  ITe  tells  me  he  is  of  the  Baptist  per- 
suasion, a  believer  in  Total  Tnimersion." 

Hester  saw  Myra's  mouth  twitching.  She  her- 
self broke  into  merry  laughter. 

"  I  hope  it  won't  be  necessary  to  go  that  length," 
she  answered.  "  We  will  do  our  best,  at  any  rate." 
She  held  out  her  hand  again,  and  Archelaus  Libby 
grasped  it  warmly. 

On  the  whole,  Archelaus  T>ibbv's  best  proved  to 
be  better  than  she  had  expected.  The  boys  made  a 
butt  of  him  from  the  beginning,  but  could  get  no 

224 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

real  advantage  over  one  who  laughed  with  them  at 
his  own  discomfitures.  He  belonged  to  those  meek 
ones  who  (it  is  promised)  shall  inherit  the  earth; 
and  indeed,  as  the  possessor  of  a  two-guinea  micro- 
scope— bought,  as  he  explained  to  Hester,  with  his 
first  earnings — he  believed  himself  to  inherit  it 
already.  This  microscope,  and  the  wonders  he 
showed  them  under  it,  earned  no  little  respect  from 
the  children.  Also  he  had,  without  being  aware  of 
it,  an  extraordinary  gift  of  mental  arithmetic,  and 
would  rattle  out  the  quotients  of  long  compound 
division  sums  at  alarming  speed  and  with  a  rapid 
clicking  sound  at  the  back  of  his  throat,  as  though 
some  preternatural  machinery  were  at  work  there. 
But  most  of  all  he  conquered  by  sheer  love  of  his 
kind  and  of  every  living  creature.  The  lad  seemed 
to  brim  over  with  love :  he  never  arrived  at  forgiving 
anyone,  being  incapable  of  believing  that  anyone 
meant  to  offend.  From  the  first  he  yielded  to  Hester 
a  canine  devotion  which  was  inconvenient  because  it 
rendered  him  dumb. 

Within  a  week  Hester  felt  sure  of  herself  and  of 
the  school,  and  confided  her  joy  to  Mr.  Benny,  who 
always  met  her  at  the  ferry  and  accompanied  her 
home  to  tea ;  for  she  was  now  installed  as  a  lodger 
with  the  Benny  household,  greatly  to  ISTuncey's  de- 
light.    After  tea  Mr.  Benny  always  withdrew  to  a 

225 


SHINING    FERRY 

little  office  overhanging  the  tideway;  a  wooden,  felt- 
roofed  shed  in  which  he  earned  money  from  6.30  to 
8.30  p.m.  by  writing  letters  for  seamen.  In  this  inter- 
val tlic  two  girls  walked  or  bathed,  returning  in  time 
to  put  tlie  children  to  bed  and  help  Mrs.  Benny  with 
the  supper.  They  talked  much,  but  seldom  about  the 
school — all  the  cares  of  which  Hester  left  behind 
her  at  the  ferry  crossing. 

"  And  that's  what  I  like  about  you,"  Nuncey 
confided.  "  You  don't  give  yourself  airs  like  other 
schoolmistresses." 

"  How  many  others  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Hester. 

"  None ;  but  I  know  what  I'm  talkin'  about.  You 
know  more  about  poetry  and  such-like  than  Dad ; 
I  daresay  you  know  as  much  as  Uncle  Josh ;  and 
yet  no  one  would  think  it,  to  look  at  you." 

"  Thank  you."  Hester  dropped  her  a  curtsey. 
"  And  who  is  Uncle  Josh  ?  " 

"  He's  Dad's  brother,  and  well  knowTi  in  London. 
I  believe  he  writes  for  the  papers ;  '  connected  with 
the  press  ' — that's  how  Dad  puts  it.  When  Dad 
writes  a  poem  he  hasn't  time  to  polish  it ;  so  he 
sends  it  up  to  Uncle  Josh,  and  it  comes  back  beau- 
tifully polished  by  return  of  post.  Now  do  you 
know  what  I  want  ?  "  asked  Nuncey,  falling  back 
and  eyeing  her. 

"  What  ? " 

226 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

"  Guess." 

"  Really  I  can't."  Hester  knew  by  this  time 
that  ISTuncey's  thoughts  moved  without  apparent  con- 
nection. 

"  I  want  to  see  you  out  of  mourning — well,  in 
half-mourning,  then.  It  ought  to  be  pale  grey,  and 
there's  a  lilac  ribbon  in  Bonaday's  shop  at  this  mo- 
ment. You  needn't  pretend  you  don't  care  about 
these  things,  for  I  know  better." 

After  supper,  and  on  their  way  to  and  from  the 
ferry,  Mr.  Benny  would  talk  readily  enough  about 
the  school.  But  on  one  point — the  tribulation  it 
was  bringing  upon  Aunt  Butson — he  kept  silence; 
for  the  thought  of  it  made  him  unhappy.  He  knew 
that  Hester  was  innocent,  but  he  could  not  wholly 
acquit  himself  of  complicity  in  the  poor  old  woman's 
fate.  Mr.  Benny  had  a  troublesome  and  tender 
conscience  in  all  matters  that  concerned  his  duty 
towards  his  neighbour.  The  School  Board  was  driv- 
ing Mrs.  Butson  out  of  employ,  taking  away  lier 
scanty  earnings ;  and  he  was  Clerk  to  the  School 
Board.  To  be  sure,  if  he  resigned  to-morrow,  another 
man  would  take  his  place,  and  ]\Irs.  Butson  be  not 
one  penny  the  better.  !Mr.  Benny  saw  this,  yet  it 
did  not  ease  his  conscience  wholly. 

Hester,  too,  kept  silence.  Her  way  to  the  school 
led  her  past  the  little  shanty  (originally  a  carpenter's 

227 


SHINING    FERRY 

•workshop)  in  which  A\int  Biitson  taught.  It  stood 
a  stone's-throw  back  from  the  village  street,  partly 
concealed  by  a  clump  of  elms ;  but  once  or  twice  she 
had  heard  and  spied  children  at  play  between  the 
trees  there — children  with  faces  unfamiliar  to  her — 
and  gathered  that  the  old  woman  still  kept  her  door 
open.  As  the  days  went  by  the  date  for  raising  Mrs. 
Trevarthen's  rent,  and  the  cottage  still  showed  every 
sign  of  habitation,  she  took  it  for  granted  that 
Mr.  Sam  had  relented — possibly  in  obedience  to  his 
promise  not  to  persecute  the  young  sailor.  She  did 
not  know  that,  in  serving  his  notice  without  con- 
sulting Peter  Benny,  Mr.  Sam  had  made  a  trifling 
mistake ;  that  Mrs.  Trcvarthen  held  her  cottage  on 
a  quarterly  tenancy,  and  could  neither  have  her  rent 
raised  nor  be  evicted  before  Michaelmas.  Hester 
■would  have  been  puzzled  to  say  precisely  what  sealed 
her  lips  from  inquiry.  Partly,  no  doubt,  she  shrank 
from  discovering  a  fresh  obligation  to  Mr.  Sam, 
whose  unctuous  handshake  she  was  learning  to  detest. 
Tom  Trcvarthen  had  disappeared.  His  mother  kept 
house  unmolested.  Why  not  let  sleeping  dogs  lie  ? 
For  the  rest,  the  school  absorbed  most  of  her  thoughts, 
and  paid  back  interest  in  cheerfulness.  The  children 
•were  beginning  to  show  signs  of  loyalty,  and  a  teacher 
who  has  won  loyalty  has  won  everything.  Myra 
alone  stood  aloof,  sullen,  impervious  to  kindness. 

228 


AUXT    BUTSOIT    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

In  truth,  Myra  was  suffering.  For  the  first  time 
in  their  lives  her  will  and  Clem's  had  come  into 
conflict ;  and  Clem's  revealed  itself  as  unexpectedly, 
almost  hopelessly,  stubborn.  That  the  Virtuous  Lady 
had  sailed  for  Quebec,  carrying  away  Aunt  Hannah, 
the  one  other  person  in  the  world  who  understood 
her,  made  little  difference.  A  hundred  Aunt  Han- 
nahs could  not  console  her  for  this  loss — for  a  loss 
she  called  it.  "  The  woman  is  taking  him  from  me !  " 
She  cried  the  words  aloud  to  herself  on  her  lonely 
walks,  making  the  cattle  in  the  fields,  the  horses  in 
the  stable,  the  small  greyhound,  even  the  fields  and 
trees,  confidants  in  her  woe.  "  She  is  stealing  you 
from  me,"  she  reproached  Clem ;  "  and  you  can't 
see  that  she  is  a  witch !  You  don't  love  me  any 
longer !  "  "I  love  you  better  than  ever,"  protested 
poor  Clem.  "  ^o,  you  don't,  or  you  would  choose 
between  us.  Say  '  I  hate  her !  '  "  But  Clem  shook 
his  head.  "  I  don't  hate  her ;  and  besides,  she  isn't 
a  witch." 

She  had  been  forbidden  to  speak  to  Calvin  for 
a  week.  "  My  dear  man,"  she  answered  Mr.  Sam,  to 
his  no  small  astonishment,  "  do  you  think  /  want  to 
talk  to  the  pimply  creature  ?  He  tells  fibs ;  and  be- 
sides, he's  a  robber." 

"  You  are  a  wicked  child ;  and  if  you  persist 
in  this  talk,  I  shall  have  to  punish  you." 

229 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Are  you  going  to  beat  me  I  Beat  away.  But 
it's  true." 

He  did  not  beat  her ;  but  one  day,  meeting  Hester 
on  the  hill  as  she  walked  to  school,  he  went  so  far 
as  to  suggest  that  ]\Iyra's  spirit  needed  taming.  She 
had  been  allowed  to  run  loose,  and  her  behaviour 
at  home  caused  him  many  searchings  of  heart.  He 
made  no  doubt  that  her  behaviour  in  school  was 
scarcely  more  satisfactory. 

Hester  admitted  that  he  surmised  correctly. 

He  had  never  been  blessed  with  a  daughter  of  his 
own,  and  hardly  knew  what  to  do  with  an  unruly 
girl.  Might  he  leave  the  matter  in  Miss  Marvin's 
hands  ? 

"  If,"  said  TToster,  "  you  are  speaking  of  her 
behaviour  in  school,  you  certainly  may.  She  is  jeal- 
ous, poor  child,  because  her  brother  has  taken  a  fancy 
to  be  fond  of  me.  In  her  place  I  should  be  furious. 
But  I  think  we  are  going  to  be  friends." 

"  Some  form  of  punishment — if  I  might  sug- 
gest "— 

"  I  don't  know  of  any  that  meets  the  case,"  Hester 
answered  gravely. 

"  I  have  often  " — he  fastened  on  her  lliat  gaze 
of  his  which  she  most  of  all  disliked — "  I  have  often- 
times, of  late  especially,  felt  even  Calvin  to  be  a 
responsibility,  without  a  mother's  care."    He  went  on 

230 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

from  this  to  the  suggestion  he  had  hinted  to  Mrs. 
Purchase.  Would  Miss  Marvin  be  prepared  (for  an 
honorarium)  to  give  his  son  private  lessons?  Could 
she  afford  the  time  ?  "  I  shrink  from  exposing  him  to 
influences,  so  often  maligni,  of  a  boarding-school. 
What  I  should  most  of  all  desire  for  him  is  a  steady, 
sympathetic  home  influence,  a — may  I  say  it  ? — a 
motherly  influence." 

Hester  at  this  moment,  averting  her  eyes,  was 
aware  of  an  old  woman  a  few  yards  away,  coming 
up  the  road,  a  woman  erect  as  a  soldier,  with  strong, 
almost  mannish  features,  and  eyes  that  glared  at  her 
fiercely  from  under  a  washed-out  blue  sunbonnet. 
Mr.  Sam  gave  her  good-morning  as  she  went  by, 
but  she  neither  answered  nor  seemed  to  hear  him. 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  Hester  had  almost  asked,  when 
the  woman  turned  aside  into  a  path  leading  to  the 
shed  among  the  elms. 

"  She'll  have  to  shut  up  shop  next  week,"  said 
Mr.  Sam,  following  Hester's  gaze.  "'  I  declare.  Miss 
Marvin,  one  would  think  the  old  woman  had  ill- 
wished  you,  by  the  way  you  are  staring  after  her. 
Don't  believe  in  witchcraft,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  seen  her  till  now,  and  I  do  feel 
sorry  for  her." 

"  She's  not  fit  to  teach,  and  never  was." 

"  She's  setting  me  a  lesson  in  punctuality,  at  any 

231 


SIIIAHNG    FEKRY 

rate,"  said  Hester,  forcing  a  little  laugh,  glad  of  an 
excuse  to  end  the  conversation.  But  along  the  road 
and  at  intervals  during  the  first  and  second  lesson- 
hours  the  face  of  Mrs.  Butson  haunted  her. 

In  the  hour  before  dinner,  while  she  sat  among 
the  little  ones  correcting  their  copy-books,  the  door- 
latch  clicked,  and  she  looked  up  with  a  start — to 
see  the  woman  herself  standing  upon  the  threshold. 
Archelaus  Libby,  who  had  been  chalking  on  the 
blackboard  at  lightning  speed  a  line  of  figures  for  his 
mental  arithmetic  class,  turned  to  announce  them, 
and  paused  with  a  click  in  his  throat  which  seemed 
to  answer  that  of  the  latch.  In  the  sudden  hush 
Hester  felt  her  cheek  paling.  Somehow  she  missed 
the  courage  with  which  she  had  met  Tom  Trevarthen. 

"  Good-morning !  "  said  Mrs.  Butson  harshly. 
"  'Tisn't  forbidden  to  come  in,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  Good-morning,"  Hester  found  voice  to  answer. 
"  You  may  come  in,  and  welcome,  if  you  wish  us 
well." 

"  I'm  Sarah  Butson.  As  for  wishing  well  or  ill 
to  'ee,  we'll  leave  that  alone.  I've  come  to  listen, 
not  to  interrup'."  She  advanced  into  the  room  and 
pointed  a  finger  at  Archelaus  Libby.  "  Is  that  your 
nude  teacher?  He  hain't  much  to  look  at,  but  I'm 
told  he's  terrible  for  sums." 

"  You  shall  judge  for  yourself.     Go  on  with  your 

232 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

lesson,  Archelaiis;  and  you,  Mrs.  Butson,  take  a 
seat  if  you  will," 

"  N"© ;  I'll  stand."  Mrs.  Butson  shut  her  jaws 
firmly  and  treated  the  small  scholars  around  her  to  a 
fierce,  unwavering  stare.  Many  winced,  remembering 
her  mercies  of  old.  ''  Go  on^  young  man,"  she  com- 
manded Archelaus. 

He  plunged  into  figures  again,  nervously  at  first. 
Soon  he  recovered  his  volubility,  and,  calling  on  one 
of  the  elder  boys  to  name  two  rows  of  figures  for 
division,  wrote  them  out  and  dashed  down  the 
quotient ;  then  flung  in  the  working  at  top  speed,  show- 
ing how  the  quotient  was  obtained ;  next  rubbed  out 
all  but  the  original  divisor  and  dividend,  and,  swing- 
ing round  upon  the  boys,  raced  them  through  the 
sum,  his  throat  clicking  as  he  appealed  from  one 
boy  to  another,  urging  them  to  answer  faster  and 
faster  yet.  "'  Yes,  yes — but  try  to  multiply  in  double 
figures — twice  sixteen,  thirty-two :  it's  no  harder  than 
four  times  eight — the  tables  don't  really  stojJ  at 
twelve-times.  Now  then — seventy-eight  into  tliree- 
twenty-six  ?  You — you — you — what's  that.  Sunny 
Pascoe  ?  Four  times  ?  Right — how  many  over  ? 
Fourteen.  Now  then,  bring  down  the  next  figure,  and 
that  makes  the  new  dividend." 

Mrs.  Butson  jjassed  her  hand  over  Hester's  desk. 
"  You  keep  'em  well  dusted,"  she  observed,  turning 

233 


SHINING    FERRY 

lior  back  upon  Arclielaus  and  his  calculations.  Her 
ang;rv-looking  eyes  travelled  ov-er  desks,  floor,  walls, 
:iii(l  tlio  maps  upon  the  walls,  then  back  to  the 
children. 

"  How  many  ?  "  she  asked. 

"We  have  sixty-eight  on  the  books." 

"  How  many  here  to-day  ?  " 

"  Sixty-six.  There  are  two  absent,  with  certifi- 
cates.    Would  you  like  me  to  call  the  roll  ?  " 

"  ~No,  You've  got  'em  in  hand,  too,  I  see." 
She  picked  up  a  copy-book  from  the  desk  before  her, 
examined  it  for  a  moment,  and  laid  it  down.  "  You 
like  this  work  ? "  she  asked,  turning  her  eyes  sud- 
denly upon  Hester. 

"  How  else  could  one  do  it  at  all  ?  " 

"  I  hate  it — yes,  hate  it,"  the  old  woman  went 
on.  "  Though  'twas  my  living,  I've  hated  it  always. 
Yet  I  taught  'em  Avell — you  cross  the  ferry  and 
ask  Schoolmaster  Penrose  if  I  did  not.  I  taught 
'em  well ;  but  you  beat  me — fair  and  square  you  do. 
Only  there'll  come  a  time — I  warn  you — when  the 
hope  and  pride'll  die  out  of  you,  and  you'll  wake 
an'  wonder  how  to  live  out  tlic  day.  I  don't  know 
much,  but  I  know  that  time  must  come  to  all  teachers. 
They  never  can  tell  when  'tis  coming.  After  some 
holiday,  belike,  it  catches  'em  sudden.  The  new  lot 
of  children  be  no  worse  than  the  last,  but  they  get 

234 


AU^^T    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

treated  worse  because  the  teacher's  come  to  end  of 
tether.  You  take  my  advice  and  marry  before  that 
time  comes." 

"  I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  marry." 
"  Oh  yes,  you  will !  "  Aunt  Butson's  eyes  seemed 
to  burn  into  Hester's.  "  You're  driving  me  out  to 
work  in  the  fields;  but,  marry  or  not,  you'll  give  me 
all  the  revenge  I  look  for."  The  old  woman  hunched 
her  shoulders  and  made  abruptly  for  the  door.  As  it 
slammed  behind  her  a  weight  seemed  to  fall  upon 
Hester's  heart  and  a  sudden  shadow  across  her  day. 

Down  in  the  little  cottage  Aunt  Butson  found 
Mrs.  Trevarthen  standing  beside  a  half-filled  pack- 
ing-case, and  contemplating  a  pair  of  enormous  china 
spaniels  which  adorned  the  chimney-piece,  one  on 
either  side  of  Chinese  junk  crusted  with  sea-shells. 

"  What's  to  be  done  with  'em  ?  "  Mrs.  Trevarthen 
asked,  "  They'll  take  up  more  room  than  they're 
worth,  and  I  doubt  they'll  fetch  next  to  nothing  if 
I  leave  'em  behind  for  the  sale.  My  old  man  got 
'em  off  a  pedlar  fellow  for  two-and-threepence  apiece, 
back-along  when  we  first  set  up  house.  A  terrible 
extravagance,  as  I  told  'en  at  the  time;  but  he  took 
such  a  fancy  to  the  things,  I  never  had  the  heart  to 
say  what  I  thought  about  their  looks." 

"  You  can  leave  'em  bide,"  answered  Aunt  Butson. 

235 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Unpack   tlmt   tliere  case  agcii   an'  tnrn   it  over  to 
me.     I'm  goin'  to  qnit." 

"  There's  too  nuicli  red-tape  about  the  Widows' 
Houses,"  Mrs.  Trevarthen  pursued.  "  The  Matron 
says,  if  I  want  to  bring  Tom's  parrot,  I  must  speak 
to  Sir  George  an'  get  leave :  'tis  agen  the  rules, 
seemino-lv," 

"  Be  quiet  with  your  parrot,  an'  listen  to  me ! 
I'm  goin'  to  shut  up  school,  an'  quit.  Go  an'  make 
your  peace  wi'  that  Judas  Rosewarne :  tell  'en  you're 
gettin'  the  rids  of  me,  an'  he'll  let  you  down  easy 
enough." 

Mrs.  Trevarthen  for  a  moment  did  not  seem  to 
hear,  but  stood  meditatively  fingering  the  china 
ornaments.  Suddenly  she  swung  round  upon  her 
lodger, 

"  You're  goin'  to  give  in  ?  After  all  your  talk, 
you're  goin'  to  let  that  slave-driver  ride  roughshod 
over  you  ?  " 

"  My  dear  " — Aunt  Butson  hunched  her  shoul- 
ders— "  'tis  no  manner  of  good.  Who's  goin'  to  pay 
me  tuppence  a  week,  when  that  smooth-featured  girl 
up  the  hill  teaches  ten  times  better  for  a  penny  ? 
I've  been  up  there  to  see,  and  T  l)en't  a  fool.  She 
teaches  ten  times  better  than  ever  I  did  in  my  life. 
How  many  children  do  'ee  think  turned  up  this 
mornin'  ?     Five  ?     And  I've  taught  five-an'-thirty  at 

236 


AUNT    BUTSOK    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

one  time,  I  sent  'em  away ;  told  'em  to  come  again 
to-morrow,  and  take  word  to  their  fathers  and  mothers 
to  step  around  at  twelve  o'clock.  They'll  think  'tis 
to  come  to  an  arrangement  about  the  fees ;  but  what 
I  have  to  tell  is  that  the  school's  wound  up." 

"  You  may  do  as  it  pleases  you,  Sally  Butson. 
You  may  go,  if  you  choose,  and  ask  Rosewarne  to 
put  his  foot  on  your  neck.  But  if  you  think  I  make 
any  terms  with  'en,  you're  mistaken.  He've  a-driven 
my  Tom  from  home  an'  employ;  he've  a-cast  a  good 
son  out  o'  my  sight  and  knowledge,  and  fo'ced  'en, 
for  all  I  know^  into  wicked  courses — for  Tom's  like 
his  father  before  'en ;  you  can  lead  'en  by  a  thread, 
but  against  ill-usage  he'll  turn  mad.  Will  I  forgive 
Rosewarne  for  this  ?  He  may  put  out  the  fire  in  my 
grate  and  fling  my  bed  into  the  street,  and  I'll  laugh 
and  call  it  a  little  thing;  but  for  what  he've  a-done 
to  the  son  of  a  widow  I'll  put  on  him  the  curse  of 
a  widow,  and  not  all  his  wrath  shall  buy  it  off  by 
an  ounce  or  shorten  it  by  one  inch." 

Mrs.  Trevarthen  —  ordinarily  a  mild-tempered 
woman — shook  Avith  her  passion  as  an  aspen  shakes 
and  whitens  in  the  wind.  Aunt  Butson  laid  a  hand 
on  her  shoulder. 

"  There — there !  Put  on  the  kettle,  my  dear,  and 
let's  have  a  drink  of  tea.  It  takes  a  woman  different 
when  she've  a-got  children.     But  it  don't  follow,  be- 

237 


SHINING    FERKY 

cause  I'm  a  single  woman,  I  can't  read  a  lad's  fortune. 
You  mark  my  words,  Tom'll  fall  on  his  feet." 

Early  next  morning  Mrs.  Bntson  left  the  cottage 
with  a  small  pile  of  books,  disinterred  from  the 
depths  of  the  box  which  contained  all  her  belongings 
— cheap  books  in  gaudy  covers  of  red,  blue,  and 
green  cloth,  lavishly  gilded  without,  execrably  printed 
within :  The  Wide,  V/ide  World;  Caspar;  Poor  John, 
or  Nature's  Gentleman;  The  Parents'  Assistant. 
Her  system  of  education  recognised  merit,  but  re- 
warded it  sparingly.  As  a  rule,  she  had  distributed 
three  prizes  per  annum,  before  the  Christmas  holi- 
days, and  at  a  total  cost  of  two  shillings  and  six- 
pence. To-day  she  spread  out  no  fewer  than  ten  upon 
her  desk,  covering  them  out  of  sight  with  a  duster 
before  her  scholars  arrived. 

A  few  minutes  before  nine  she  heard  them  at  play 
outside  among  the  elms,  and  at  nine  o'clock  punctu- 
ally called  them  in  to  work  by  ringing  her  hand-bell 
— the  clapper  of  which  (vain  extravagance!)  had  re- 
cently been  shortened  by  the  village  tinsmith  to  pre- 
vent its  wearing  the  metal  unequally.  Five  scholars 
answered  its  summons — 'Thaniel  Langmaid,  Maudie 
Hosken,  Ivy  Nancarrow,  Jane  Ann  Toy  and  her  four- 
year-old  brother  Luke.  Their  fathsrs,  one  and  all, 
though   dwelling  in   the  village,   were  employed   in 

238 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

trades  on  the  other  side  of  the  ferry,  and  therefore 
could  risk  offending  Mr.  Rosewarne;  but  their  in- 
dependence had  not  yet  translated  itself  into  steady 
payment  of  the  fees,  and  Mr.  Toy  (for  example) 
notoriously  practised  dilatoriness  of  payment  as  part 
of  his  scheme  of  life. 

Without  a  twitch  of  her  fierce  features  she  ranged 
up  her  attenuated  class,  distributed  the  well-thumbed 
books — with  a  horn-book  for  little  Luke  Toy — and 
for  two  hours  taught  them  with  the  same  joyless 
severity  under  which  their  fathers  and  mothers  had 
suffered.  For  spelling  "  lamb  "  without  the  final  b, 
Ivy  !N^ancarrow  underwent  the  punishment  invari- 
ably meted  out  for  such  errors — mounted  the  dunce's 
bench,  and  wore  the  dunce's  cap ;  nor  did  'Thaniel 
Langmaid's  knuckles  escape  the  ruler  when  he 
dropped  a  blot  upon  his  copy,  "  Comparisons  are 
Odious  " — a  proposition  of  which  he  understood  the 
meaning  not  at  all.  The  cane  and  the  birch-rod  on 
Mrs.  Butson's  desk  served  her  now  but  as  insignia. 
She  had  not  wielded  them  as  weapons  of  justice  since 
the  day  (four  years  ago)  when  a  struggle  with  Ivy 
N^ancarrow's  elder  brother  had  taught  her  that  her 
natural  strength  was  abating. 

At  twelve  o'clock  she  told  the  children  to  close 
their  books,  dismissed  thom  to  play,  and  sat  down  to 
await  the  invited  company. 

239 


SHINING    FERRY 

Mr.  Toy  was  the  first  to  arrive.  lie  came 
straight  from  the  jetties — that  is  to  say,  as  straight 
as  a  stevedore  can  be  expected  to  come  at  noon  on 
Saturday,  after  receiving  his  week's  pay.  He  wore 
his  accustomed  mask  of  clay-dust,  and  smelt  power- 
fully of  beer,  two  pints  of  which  he  had  consumed 
ill  an  unsocial  hurry  at  the  Ferry  Inn  on  his  way. 

'^  Good-morning."  Mrs.  Butson  welcomed  him 
Avith  a  nod.     "  Your  wife  is  coming,  I  hope  ?  " 

"  You  bet  she  is,"  Mr,  Toy  answered  cheerfully, 
smacking  the  coins  in  his  trousers  pocket.  "  She 
don't  miss  looking  me  up  this  day  of  the  week." 
Recollecting  that  certain  of  the  shillings  he  so  lightly 
jingled  were  due  to  Mrs.  Butson,  he  suddenly  grew 
confused,  and  his  embarrassment  was  not  lightened 
by  the  entrance  of  Maudie  Hosken's  parents.  Mr. 
Ilosken  tilled  a  small  freehold  garden  in  his  spare 
hours,  and  Mr.  Toy  owed  him  four  shillings  and 
sixpence  for  potatoes,  and  had  reason  to  believe  that 
Mrs.  Hosken  took  a  stern  view  of  the  debt. 

Next  came  Mrs.  Langmaid,  a  seaman's  widow, 
and  lastly  Mrs.  Toy,  who  noted  that  all  the  others 
had  made  themselves  tidv  for  the  ceremonv,  and  at 
once  began  to  apologise  for  her  husband's  appearance. 

Aunt  Butson  cut  her  short,  however,  by  ringing 
the  schoolbell,  and  marshalling  her  five  pupils  back  to 
their  seats.      The  parents  dropped  themselves  here 

240 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

and  there  among  the  many  empty  benches  in  the 
rear,  and  the  schoolmistress,  after  rapping  the  desk 
with  her  cane,  from  force  of  habit,  mounted  the  plat- 
form, uncovered  the  row  of  books,  and  began  to 
arrange  them  with  hands  that  trembled  a  little. 

"  Friends  and  neighbours,  the  reason  I've  called 
'ee  together  is  for  a  prize-giving.  I'll  have  to  say  a 
word  or  two  when  that's  done ;  but  just  now  a  prize- 
giving  it  is,  and  we'd  best  get  to  business.  Girls: 
Maudie  Hosken,  first  prize  for  good  conduct ;  Ivy 
J^ancarrow,  consolation  prize,  ditto ;  Jane  Ann  Toy, 
extra  consolation  prize,  ditto.  Step  up,  girls,  and 
take  your  books." 

Until  Mrs.  Hosken  leaned  forward  and  nudged 
her  daughter  in  the  back,  the  children  did  not  budge, 
so  bewildered  were  they  by  these  sudden  awards. 
When  Maudie,  however,  picked  up  courage,  the  other 
two  bravely  bore  her  company,  and  each  received  a 
book. 

"  Boys :  'Thaniel  Langmaid,  first  prize  for  good 
conduct ;  Luke  Toy,  consolation  prize  for  ditto." 

"  Seemin'  to  me,"  remarked  Mr.  Toy  audibly, 
nudging  his  wife,  "  there's  a  deal  o'  consolation  for 
our  small  family." 

"  Hush !  "  answered  his  wife.  *'  There's  as  much 
gilt  'pon  Lukey's  book  as  'pon  any;  an'  'tis  almost 
as  big." 

241 


SHINING   FERRY 

"  Girls :  English  prize,  Ivy  Nancarrow — and  I 
hope  that  in  futur',  whoever  teaches  her,  she  won't 
think  L-A-M  spells  *  lamb.'  Sums  and  geography 
prize,  Maiidie  Hosken ;  junior  prize,  Jane  Ann  Toy." 

"  Boys :  General  knowledge,  'Thaniel  Langmaid ; 
general  improvement,  Luke  Toy." 

"  That  makes  four  altogether."  Mr.  Toy  jingled 
his  shillings  furtively.  "  Look  here,  Selina,"  he 
whispered,  "  we'll  have  to  pay  the  old  'ooman  some- 
thing on  account.  How  else  to  get  out  o'  this,  I 
don't  see." 

"  An'  now,  friends  an'  neighbours,"  began  Aunt 
Butson  resolutely,  "  I've  a-fetched  'ee  together  to 
say  that  'tis  all  over;  the  school's  come  to  an  end. 
You've  stuck  by  me  while  you  could,  and  I  thank 
you  kindly.  But  'tis  hard  for  one  of  my  age  to 
fight  with  tyrants,  and  tyrants  and  Government  to- 
gether be  too  much  for  me.  I've  a-taught  this  here 
village  for  getting-up  three  generations.  Lord  knows 
I  never  loved  the  work ;  but  Lord  knows  I  was  willing 
to  go  on  with  it  till  lie  called  me  home.  Take  a 
look  at  tliicky  there  blackboard  an'  easel,  bought  but 
the  other  week ;  and  hero's  a  globe  now,  cost  mo 
fifteen  shillin'— an'  wham  I  do  with  it  ^  "  She  de- 
tached it  from  its  frame,  and  bclorc  passing  it  round 
for  inspection,  held  it  between  her  treml)ling  palms. 
"  Here  be  all  the  nations  u"  ilie  earth,  civilised  and 

242 


AUNT    BUTSON    CLOSES    SCHOOL 

uncivilised;  and  here  be  I^  Sarah  Butson,  with  no 
place  upon  it,  after  next  Monday,  to  lay  my  head." 

She  looked  up  with  fierce,  tearless  eyes,  and  look- 
ing up,  caught  sight  of  Mr,  Samuel  Kosewarne  in  the 
doorway. 

''  Oh,  good-morning,  Mrs.  Butson !  "  nodded  Mr. 
Sam  easily.  "  I  looked  in  to  see  if  you'd  collected 
your  school-fees  this  week,  as  the  law  requires.  You 
are  doing  so,  it  seems  ?  " 

"  Kosewarne " —  Mrs.  Butson  stepped  down 
from  her  platform,  globe  in  hand. 

"  Eh  ?  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  "  But  before  the  mis- 
chief in  her  eyes  he  turned  and  fled. 

She  followed  him  to  the  door. 

"  Take  that,  you  thievin'  Pharisee !  " 

The  globe  missed  his  head  by  a  few  inches,  and 
w^ent  flying  down  the  roadway  toward  the  ferry. 
Aunt  Butson  strode  back  among  her  astonished 
audience. 

"  That's  my  last  word  to  /le,"  she  said,  panting; 
"  and  here's  my  last  to  you."  She  picked  up 
her  chalk,  advanced  to  the  blackboard,  and  wrote 
rapidly  in  bold,  clear  hand — 

BLAST   ALL   EDUCATION! 

"  You  may  go,  friends,"  said  she.  ''  I'd  like  to 
be  alone,  if  you  please." 

243 


CHAPTER  XVII 


PETER    benny's    DISMISSAL. 


Although  Master  Calvin  Rosewarne,  by  telling 
tales,  first  set  the  persecution  going  against  Nicky 
Vro,  he  did  so  without  any  special  malevolence.  It 
was  an  instance  of  Satan's  finding  mischief  for  idle 
hands.  The  child,  in  fact,  had  no  playmates,  and 
little  to  do ;  and  happening  to  pass  Mrs.  Trevarthen's 
cottage  as  her  household  stuff  and  sticks  of  furniture 
were  being  removed  in  a  hand-cart,  he  followed  down- 
hill to  the  ferry  to  watch  the  transhipment. 

Some  minutes  later,  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  having 
locked  her  door  for  the  last  time,  laid  the  key  under 
a  geranium-pot  on  the  window-sill.  There  was  no  sen- 
timent in  her  leave-taking.  A  few  late  blossoms 
showed  on  the  jasmine  which,  from  a  cutting  planted 
by  her  in  the  year  of  Tom's  birth,  had  over-run  and 
smothered  the  cottage  to  its  very  chimney.  Her 
Michaelmas  daisies  and  perennial  phloxes — flowers  of 
her  anxious  care — were  in  full  bloom.  But  the  old 
soul  had  no  eyes  for  them,  now  at  the  last,  being 
flustered  by  the  importance  of  her  journey  and  the 

244 


PETER    BEIS^NY'S    DISMISSAL 

thought  of  many  things,  hastily  packed,  which  might 
take  harm  in  crossing  the  ferry.  Mr.  Toy  (a  neigh- 
bourly fellow  with  all  his  failings,  and  one  of  that 
not  innumerous  class  of  men  who  delight  in  any 
labour,  so  it  be  unprofitable)  had  undertaken  to  load 
the  ferry-boat ;  but  having  in  mere  exuberance  of 
good-nature  imbibed  more  beer  than  was  good  for 
him,  he  could  not  be  trusted  with  the  chinaware, 

Neighbours  appeared  at  every  doorway — the  more 
emotional  ones  with  red  eves — to  wish  Mrs.  Trevar- 
then  good-bye.  She  answered  them  tremulously ;  but 
her  mind,  all  the  way  down  the  street,  ran  on  a 
hamper  of  chinaware,  the  cover  of  w^hich  she  could 
not  remember  to  have  tied.  Her  left  arm  rested  in 
Aunt  Butson's  (who  carried  the  parrot's  cage  swathed 
in  an  old  petticoat)  ;  on  her  right  she  bore  a  covered 
basket. 

At  the  slip  Mr.  Toy  handed  her  on  board.  He 
himself  would  cross  later  in  the  horse-boat,  with  his 
hand-cart  and  the  heavier  luggage. 

"  Better  count  the  parcels,  missus,"  he  advised. 
"  There's  fifteen,  as  I  make  out ;  and  Mr.  Vro  '11 
hand  'em  out  careful  'pon  t'other  side.  You'd  best 
wait  there  till  I  come  across  with  the  rest." 

Instead  of  taking  her  scat  at  once,  Mrs.  Trevar- 
then  stood  for  a  moment  bewildered  amid  the  packages 
crowding  the  thwarts  and  the  sternsheets ;  and  most 

245 


SIITXrXG    FERRY 

unfortunately  Old  Vro  selected  this  moment  to  thrust 
off  from  shore  with  his  paddle.  The  impetus  took 
her  unawares,  and  she  fell  forward ;  her  basket  struck 
against  the  boat's  gunwale,  its  cover  flew  open,  and 
forth  from  it,  half-demented  with  fright,  sjjrang  her 
tabby  cat,  Methuselah.  The  poor  brute  lit  upon  the 
parrot's  cage,  which  happened  to  be  balanced  upon 
an  unstable  pile  of  cooking  utensils  at  the  end  of 
Nicky  Vro's  thwart.  Cat,  cage  and  parrot,  a  grid- 
iron, two  cake  tins,  a  bundle  of  skewers,  and  a  cullen- 
der, went  overboard  in  one  rattling  avalanche,  and 
Master  Calvin  laughed  aloud  from  the  shore. 

Nicky  Vro,  with  a  wild  clutch,  grabbed  hold  of  the 
cage  before  it  sank,  and  dragged  it  and  the  screaming 
bird  out  of  danger.  The  gridiron  and  skewers  went 
down  at  once — luckily  in  four  feet  of  water,  whence 
they  could  be  recovered  at  low-ebb.  The  cullender 
sank  slowly  and  with  dignity.  The  cat  headed 
straight  for  shore,  and,  defying  all  attempts  of  Mr. 
Toy  and  Aunt  Butson  to  head  him  off,  slipped  between 
them  and  dashed  up  the  hill  on  a  bee-line  for  home. 
]\raster  Calvin,  seated  astride  the  low  wall  above  the 
slipway,  almost  rolled  off  his  perch  witli  laughter. 
Uncle  Vro,  cage  in  hand,  turned  on  him  with  sudden 
fury. 

"  Better  fit  you  was  at  your  lessons,"  be  called 
back,  shaking  his  fist,  ''  than  grinning  there  at  your 

246 


PETER   BENNY'S    DISMISSAL 

father's  dirty  work!  Toy,  run  an'  pull  the  ears  of 
'en ! — 'twon't  be  noticed  if  you  pull  'em  an  inch 
longer  than  they  be." 

The  boy,  as  Mr.  Toy  ran  towards  him  with  a  face 
that  meant  business,  dropped  off  the  wall  on  its  far 
side,  and  charged  up  the  hill  for  home  in  a  terror 
scarcely  less  urgent  than  Methuselah's.  Xor  did  he 
feel  safe  until,  at  the  gate  of  Hall,  he  tumbled  into 
his  father's  arms  and  panted  out  his  story. 

"  Talked  about  my  '  dirty  work,'  did  he  ?  "  mused 
Mr.  Sam,  pulling  at  his  under-lip.  He  wheeled  about 
and  walked  straight  to  the  counting-house,  where  Mr. 
Benny  sat  addressing  Michaelmas  bills. 

"  Put  those  aside  for  a  moment,"  he  commanded. 
"  I  want  a  letter  written." 

Mr.  Benny  took  a  sheet  of  notepaper  from  the 
rack,  dipped  his  pen,  and  looked  up  attentively. 

"  It's  for  the  ferryman  below  here — Old  Vro,  as 
you  call  him.  Write  that  after  Saturday  next  his 
services  will  not  be  required." 

Mr.  Benny  laid  down  his  pen  slowly  and  stared 
at  his  master. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir — ^you  can't  mean  that 
you're  dismissing  him  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  What,  old  Nicky  Vro  ?  "     Mr.  Benny  shook  his 

247 


SIIIXIXG    FERRY 

head,  as  much  as  to  say  tliat  the  thing  could  not  be 
done. 

"  He  has  been  grossly  impudent.  Apart  from 
that,  his  incompetence  is  a  scandal,  and  I  have  won- 
dered more  than  once  how  my  father  put  up  with  it. 
In  justice  to  the  public  using  the  ferry,  and  to  Lady 
Killiow  as  owner  of  the  ferry  rights —  But,  excuse 
me,  I  prefer  not  to  argue  the  matter.  He  must  go. 
Will  you,  please,  write  the  letter,  and  deliver  it  when 
you  cross  the  ferry  at  dinner-time." 

"  But,  indeed,  Mr.  Samuel — you  must  forgive  me, 
sir — old  Nicky  may  be  cantankerous  at  times,  but  he 
means  no  harm  to  any  living  soul.     The  passengers 
make  allowances:  he's  a  part  of  the  ferry,  as  you 
miglit  say.     As  for  impudence — if  he  really  has  been 
impudent — will  you  let  me  talk  to  him,  sir?     I'll 
engage  he  asks  pardon  and  promises  not  to  offend 
again.    But  think,  before  in  your  anger  you  turn  him 
adrift — where  can  the  old  man  go,  but  to  the  work- 
house ?    What  can  he  have  saved,  on  twelve  shillings 
a  week  ?    For  every  twelve  shillings  he's  earned  Lady 
Killiow  three  to  five  pounds,  Aveek  by  week,  these 
forty  years ;  and  not  one  penny  of  it,  I'll  undertake 
to  say,  has  he  kept  back  from  her  ladyship.     What 
wage  is  it,  after  all,  for  the  years  of  a  man's  strength 
that  now,  with  a  few  more  years  to  live,  he  should 
lose  it  ?  " 

248 


PETER    BEI^NY'S    DISMISSAL 

"  Have  you  done  ?  " 

Mr.  Benny  stood  up.  "  I  should  never  have  done, 
sir,  until  you  listened  to  me." 

"  You  refuse  to  write  the  letter  ?  " 

"  I  humbly  beg  you,  sir,  not  to  ask  me  to  write  it." 

"  But  I  do  ask  you  to  write  it." 

Mr.  Benny  thrust  both  hands  nervously  beneath 
his  coat-tails,  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  for  a 
second  or  two,  staring  out  upon  the  garden.  His 
cheeks  were  flushed.  He  had  arrived  at  one  of  those 
moments  in  life  which  prove  a  man;  but  of  heroism 
he  was  not  conscious  at  all. 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  Mr.  Samuel,"  said  he,  turn- 
ing again  to  the  table.  "  If  your  father  had  told  me 
to  write  such  a  letter,  I  should  have  used  an  old  ser- 
vant's liberty  and  warned  him  that  he  was  acting  un- 
justly. Though  it  made  him  angry,  he  would  have 
understood.  But  I  see,  sir,  that  I  have  no  right  to 
argue  with  you ;  and  so  let  us  have  no  more  words. 
I  cannot  write  what  you  wish." 

"  My  father,"  answered  Mr.  Sam,  wagging  a  fin- 
ger at  him,  "  tolerated  many  things  I  do  not  propose 
to  tolerate.  He  suffered  this  old  dotard  to  annoy  the 
public,  though  long  past  work.  T  am  not  surprised 
to  learn  that  he  suffered  you  to  forget  your  place." 

Mr.  Benny  gathered  up  his  papers  without  an- 
swering. 

249 


SHINING   FERRY 

"  Look  here,  Benny,"  Mr.  Sam  resumed,  after 
watcliing  him  for  a  while,  "  I  don't  wish  to  be  hard 
on  you ;  I  only  require  obedience.  It's  a  bit  foolish 
of  you — eh  ? — to  be  quarrelling  with  your  bread  and 
butter." 

"  May  be,  sir." 

"  If  you  leave  me,  I  wish  it  to  be  understood  that 
'tis  by  your  own  choice." 

The  little  man  met  his  master's  eyes  now  with  a 
look  of  something  like  contempt.  "  If  that  salves 
your  conscience,  sir,  by  all  means  have  it  so.  But 
if  'tis  to  be  jjlain  truth  between  us,  you  want  a 
younger  clerk." 

"  Did  I  ever  complain  of  your  incompetence  ?  " 

"  My  incompetence,  sir  ?  'Tis  my  competence  you 
surely  mean  ?  I  reckon  no  man  can  be  sure  of  being 
a  good  servant  till  he  has  learnt  to  advise  for  his  mas- 
ter's good  against  his  master's  will." 

"What's  the  matter  with  'ee,  Peter?"  asked 
Nicky  Vro  as  he  rowed  Mr.  Benny  across  the  ferry 
at  dinner-time.  "  You're  looking  as  downcast  as  a 
gib  cat." 

"  I  was  wondering,"  answered  Mr.  Benny  gently, 
^'  how  many  times  we  two  have  crossed  this  ferry  to- 
gether." 

Nicky  Vro  pondered.     "  Now  that's  the  sort  o' 

250 


PETER    BENA^Y'S    DISMISSAL 

question  I  leave  alone  o'  set  purpose,  and  I'll  tell  'ee 
for  why.  One  night,  years  ago,  and  just  as  we  was 
off  to  bed,  my  poor  wife  says  to  me,  ^  I  wonder  how 
many  times  you've  crossed  the  ferry,  first  and  last.' 
'  Hundreds  and  thousands,'  I  says,  just  like  so. 
She'd  a-put  the  question  in  idleness,  an'  in  idleness  I 
answered  it.  Will  you  believe  it? — between  twelve 
and  one  in  the  morning  I  w^oke  up  with  my  head  full 
o'  figgers.  Not  another  wink  o'  sleep  could  I  get, 
neither.  Soon  as  ever  I  shook  up  the  bolster  an'  set- 
tled down  for  another  trv,  I  seed  mvself  whiskin' 
back  and  forth  over  this  here  piece  o'  water  like  a 
piston-rod  in  a  steamship,  and  off  I  started  countin' 
for  dear  life.  Count  ?  I  tell  you  it  lasted  for  nights, 
and  by  the  end  o'  the  week  I  had  to  see  the  doctor 
about  it.  I  was  losin'  flesh.  Doctor,  he  gave  me  a 
bottle  o'  trade — very  flat-tasted  stuff  it  was,  price 
half  a  crown,  with  a  sediment  if  you  let  it  stand  ;  and 
after  a  few  days  the  trouble  wore  off.  They  tell  me 
there's  a  new  pupil  teacher  up  to  the  school  can  an- 
swer questions  like  that  while  you're  countin'  his  but- 
tons. I've  seen  the  fellow :  a  pigeon-chested  poor 
creatur',  with  his  calves  put  on  the  wrong  way.  I'd 
a  mind  to  tell  'en  that  with  figgers,  as  with  other  walks 
o'  life,  a  man's  first  business  is  to  look  after  his  own. 
But  I  didn't  like  to,  he  looked  so  harmless.  Puttin' 
one  thing  with  another,  Peter  Benny,  I'd  advise  you 

251 


SHINING    FERRY 

to  leave  these  speekilations  alone.  Be  it  a  thousand 
times  or  ten  tlionsand,  there's  only  one  time  that 
counts — the  last ;  and  only  the  Lord  A'mighty  knows 
when  that'll  be." 

Mr.  Benny  sighed.  "  When  the  Lord  sets  a  man 
free  of  his  labour,  Nicky,  He  does  it  gently.  But 
we  have  to  deal  with  an  earthly  master,  we  two,  and 
his  mercies  aren't  so  gentle." 

Nicky  Vro  nodded.  "  You'm  thinkin'  of  they 
two  poor  souls  up  the  hill.  A  proper  tyrant  Mister 
Sam  can  be,  and  so  I  told  that  ugly-featured  boy  of 
his,  when  I  put  Mrs.  Trevarthen  across  this  mornin'. 
'Twas  a  shame,  too,  to  lose  my  temper  with  the  cheeld ; 
for  a  cat  couldn'  help  laughin' — supposin'  he  wasn't 
the  partickler  cat  consarned."  The  old  man  told  the 
story,  chuckling  wheezily. 

"  You  went  too  far,  Nicky.  I  have  the  best  rea- 
sons for  knowing  that  you  went  too  far.  Now  listen 
to  me.  As  soon  as  you  get  back,  hitch  up  your  boat, 
walk  straight  up  to  Hall,  and  tell  Mr.  Sam  that 
you're  sorry." 

"  Well,  so  I  am  in  a  way,  though  the  fellow  do 
turn  my  stomach.  Still  there  wasn'  no  sense  in  rap- 
pin'  out  on  the  boy." 

"  It  doesn't  help  the  old  woman,  you  know,"  said 
Mr.  Benny,  and  sighed  again,  bethinking  himself 
how  vain  had  been  his  own  protest, 

252 


PETER    BENNY'S    DISMISSAL 

"  Not    a    bit,"     assented    Mr.     Vro    cheerfully. 
"  Well,  I'll  go  back  and  make  it  up  with  the  var- 
mint.    I  reckon  he  means  to  give  me  a  bad  few  min- 
utes; but  'tis  foolish  to  quarrel  when  folks  can't  do 
without  one  another,  and  so  I'll  tell  'en." 

Half  an  hour  ago  Mr.  Benny  had  been  a  brave 
man,  but  as  he  neared  his  home  a  sudden  cowardice 
seized  him.  It  was  not  that  he  shirked  breaking  the 
news  to  his  wife ;  nay,  he  fiercely  desired  to  tell  her, 
and  get  the  worst  over.  But  in  imagination  he  saw 
the  children  seated  around  the  table,  all  hungry  as 
hunters  for  the  meal  which,  under  God's  grace,  he 
had  never  yet  failed  to  earn ;  and  the  thought  that 
they  might  soon  hunger  and  not  be  fed,  for  a  mo- 
ment unmanned  him.  He  hurried  past  the  ope  lead- 
ing to  his  door.  The  dinner-hour's  quiet  rested  on 
the  little  town,  and  there  was  no  one  in  the  street  to 
observe  him  as  he  halted  by  the  church  gate,  half- 
minded  to  return.  The  gate  stood  open,  and  as  he 
glanced  up  at  the  tower  the  clock  there  rang  out  its 
familiar  chime.  He  passed  up  the  path,  entered,  and 
cast  himself  on  his  knees. 

For  half  an  hour  he  knelt,  and,  altliough  he  prayed 
but  by  fits  and  starts,  by  degrees  peace  grew  witliin 
him  and  possessed  his  soul.  He  waited  until  the 
clock  struck  two — by  which  time  the  children  would 

25^] 


SHINING    FEKKY 

be    back    at    school — and    walked    resolutely    home- 
ward. 

Mrs.  Benny  and  Nuncey  were  alone  in  the  kitch- 
en, where  the  board  had  been  cleared  of  all  but  the 
tablecloth  and  his  OAvn  knife  and  fork.  They  cried 
out  together  upon  his  dilatoriness ;  but  while  his  wife 
turned  to  fetch  his  dinner  from  the  oven,  Nuncey  took 
a  step  forward,  scanning  his  face. 

"Father?" 

He  put  out  a  hand  as  he  dropped  into  his  seat, 
and  stared  along  the  empty  table. 

"  I  am  dismissed." 

Mrs.  Benny  faced  about,  felt  for  a  chair,  and  sat 
down  trembling,     Nuncey  took  her  father's  hand. 

"  Tell  us  all  about  it,"  she  commanded ;  and  he 
told  them. 

His  wife  cast  her  apron  over  her  head. 

"  But  he'll  take  you  back,"  she  moaned.  "  If 
you  go  to  'en  and  ask  'en  properly,  he'll  surely  take 
you  back !  " 

"  Don't  be  foolish,  mother."  Nuncey  laid  a  hand 
on  her  father's  shoulder,  and  he  looked  up  at  her  with 
brimming  eyes.  "  'Tis  Rosewarne  that  shall  send  to 
us  before  we  go  to  him !  " 

She  patted  the  tired  shoulders,  now  bent  again 
over  the  table. 

"  But  what  a  brave  little  father  it  is,  after  all !  " 

254 


CHAPTEK   XVIII 

EIGHT    OF    FEKKY 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Benny  ?  "  asked  Nicky 
Vro  as  he  rowed  Hester  across  that  evening.  They 
were  alone  in  the  boat.  "  The  man  seemed  queer 
in  his  manner  this  morning,  like  as  if  he  was 
sickenin'  for  something,  and  this  afternoon  I  han't 
seen  fur  nor  feather  of  'en."  He  dug  away  with  his 
paddles,  and  resumed  with  a  chuckle,  after  a  dozen 
strokes,  "  The  man  hasn't  been  quarrellin'  with  his 
bread  an'  butter,  I  hope  ?  I  went  up  to  see  Mr.  Sam 
on  a  little  business  o'  my  own  after  dinner,  and  he 
fairly  snapped  my  nose  off — called  me  an  impident 
old  fool,  and  gave  me  the  sack.  Iss  fay,  he  did !  I 
wasn't  goin'  to  argue  with  the  man.  '  You'll  think 
better  o'  this  to-morrow,'  I  said,  and  with  that  I  comed 
away.  Something  must  have  occurred  to  put  'en  out 
before  he  talked  that  nonsense  to  me." 

Next  morning,  Hester — who  meanwhile  had 
learned  the  truth — found  the  old  fellow  in  the  same 
cheerful,  incredulous  frame  of  mind.  She  might  have 
told  him  how  serious  was  his  case ;  but  it  is  improb- 
able that  she  could  have  convinced  him,  and,  more- 
over, Mr.  Benny,  before  confiding  to  her  the  reason 

255 


SHINING    l<^KPvRY 

of  his  own  dismissal,  had  made  her  promise  to  keep 
it  a  secret. 

Bj  Saturday,  however,  it  was  generally  known 
that  Mr.  Sam  had  found  some  excuse  or  other  to  get 
rid  of  his  father's  confidential  clerk.  Now  Mr. 
Benny  had  hitherto  brought  down  Nicky's  weekly 
wages  on  Saturday  evenings  as  he  crossed  by  the  ferry. 
This  week  no  Mr.  Benny  appeared,  nor  any  messen- 
ger from  Hall ;  and  consequently  on  Sunday  morning 
early  Nicky  donned  a  clean  shirt-front  and  marched 
up  to  the  house  to  claim  his  due. 

"  I  make  it  a  rule,"  said  Mr.  Sam,  "  to  dispense 
no  moneys  on  the  Sabbath." 

''  The  ferry  charges  double  on  the  Sabbath,  as  you 
call  it,"  answered  Nicky,  "  and  always  has.  I  don't 
see  where  your  squeamishness  begins.  How^s'ever,  I'll 
call  to-morrow  rather  than  hurt  any  man's  conscience ; 
only  let's  have  it  clear  when  the  money's  to  be  paid 
in  futur'." 

"  In  future  ?  "  echoed  Mr.  Sam.  "  I  Imped  I  had 
made  it  clear  that  after  this  week  you  cease  to  be 
ferryman." 

"  That's  a  good  joke,  now,"  said  Nicky. 
"  I  am  glad  you  take  it  so  pleasantly.     Come  to 
me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  be  paid ;  and  again  next 
Saturday,  after  j^ou  have  chained  up  for  the  night. 
That,  I  warn  you,  will  be  the  last  time." 

256 


EIGHT    OF    FERRY 

"  Oh,  you'll  think  better  of  it  by  Saturday !  " 

That  Mr,  Sam  did  not  think  better  of  it  scarcely 
needs  to  be  said ;  and  during  the  next  few  days 
some  of  Nicky's  confidence  began  to  ooze  away.  His 
master  made  no  sign  ;  he  could  not  hear  that  anyone 
had  been  engaged  in  his  place,  or  that  anyone  had  been 
proposed  for  the  job,  but  this  silence  somehow  discon- 
certed rather  than  reassured  him.  He  discussed  it 
with  his  neighbour  Hosken  (one  of  the  few  small  free- 
holders in  the  parish,  who  along  with  a  cottage  and 
two  acres  of  garden  had  inherited  a  deep  ancestral  sus- 
picion of  the  Rosewarnes  and  all  their  ways),  and  be- 
tween them  the  pair  devised  a  plan  to  meet  contin- 
gencies. 

The  ferry  closed  at  eight  p.m.  during  the  winter 
months.  At  half-past  eight  next  Saturday  night 
Nicky  again  presented  himself  at  Hall,  and  was  po- 
litely received  in  the  counting-house. 

"  Take  a  seat,"  suggested  Mr.  Sam. 

"  Thank  'ee,  sir,"  said  Nicky,  somewhat  reas- 
sured. This  opening  promised  at  least  that  Mr.  Sam 
found  the  situation  worth  discussing.  "  Thank  'ee, 
sir ;  but  'tis  a  relief  to  me  to  stand,  not  to  mention  the 
trousers." 

"  Please  yourself."  Mr.  Sam  paused,  and  ap- 
peared to  be  waiting. 

"  'Tis  nice  seasonable  weather  for  the  time  of 

257 


SHINING   FERRY 

year,"  said  Nicky  cheerfully,  producing  a  large 
canvas  bag  and  reaching  forward  to  lay  it  on 
the  Avriting-table.  It  contained  his  week's  takings, 
mostly  in  coppers.  '*  Three  pounds,  twelve  shil- 
lings, and  ninepence,  sir,  if  you'll  count  it.  There's 
one  French  penny,  must  have  been  put  upon  me 
just  now  after  dark.  I  can't  swear  to  the  person, 
though  I  can  guess.  The  last  load  but  one,  I  brought 
across  a  sailor-looking  chap,  a  bustious,  big  fellow, 
with  a  round  hat  like  a  missionary's,  and  all  the  rest 
of  him  in  sea-cloth.  Thinks  T,  '  You've  broken  ship, 
my  friend.'  The  man  had  a  drinking  face,  and  alto- 
gether I  didn't  like  his  looks.  So,  next  trip,  I  warned 
the  constable  across  the  water,  in  case  he  heard  of  a 
seaman  missing  from  the  west'ard.  But  this  here 
French  penny  I  only  discovered  just  now,  when  I 
counted  up  the  day's  takings." 

"  I  fancy  you  must  be  mistaken,"  said  Mr.  Sam. 
"  The  man  has  a  good  character  for  honesty." 

"  What  ?    You  know  'en  ?  " 

"  He  is  the  new  tenant  of  Mrs.  Trevarthen's  cot- 
tage, and  has  come  to  take  over  the  ferry."  In  the 
pause  that  followed,  Mr.  Sam  counted  and  arranged 
the  coins  in  small  stacks.  "  Three-twelve-nine,  did 
you  say  ?  Right.  But  excuse  me,  there's  one  thing 
you've  forgotten." 

Nicky  understood.     Very  slowdy  he  drew  a  chain 

258 


RIGHT    OF    FEERY 

from  his  left  trouser  pocket,  detached  two  keys,  and 
laid  them  on  the  table.  His  face  worked,  and  for 
the  moment  he  seemed  on  the  verge  of  an  outburst; 
but,  when  he  spoke,  it  was  with  dignity,  albeit  his 
voice  trembled. 

"  Mr.  Samuel,  you  try  to  go  where  the  devil  can't, 
between  the  oak  and  the  rind.  Your  father  fought 
with  men  of  his  own  size,  and  gave  an'  took  what  the 
fightin'  brought ;  but  as  for  you,  you  fight  with  women 
and  children^  and  old  worn-out  men,  such  as  the  Lord 
helps  because  they  can't  help  themselves.  You  han't 
beat  us  yet — not  by  a  long  way.  I  warn  you  to  pray 
that  the  way  may  be  lengthened ;  for  'tis  when  you've 
overcome  us,  an'  the  Lord  takes  up  our  cause,  that 
your  troubles  '11  begin." 

Small  sleep  came  to  ISTicky  Vro  that  night.  Wliat 
troubled  him  most  in  the  prospect  of  the  struggle 
ahead — for  a  struggle  he  meant  it  to  be — was  his  posi- 
tion as  Rosewarne's  tenant.  Mean  as  was  his  hovel 
above  the  ferry — rented  by  him  at  four  pounds  a  year 
— he  clung  to  it,  and  Mr.  Samuel  would  certainly  turn 
him  out.  By  good  luck  he  paid  his  rent  quarterly, 
and  could  not  be  evicted  before  Christmas.  He  had 
talked'this  over  with  his  neighbour,  Hoskcn,  who  had 
encouraged  him  to  be  cheerful.  "  Drat  it  all,  uncle," 
said  Hosken,  himself  the  cheeriest  of  men,  "  if  the 

259 


SHINI^^G    FERRY 

worst  comes  to  the  worst,  I'll  take  you  in  myself,  and 
give  you  your  meals  and  a  crib." 

Nicky  shook  his  head.  "  You'd  best  talk  it  over 
with  your  wife,"  said  he,  "  afore  you  make  free  with 
your  promises.  She's  a  good  woman,  but  afflicted 
with  tidiness.    I  doubt  my  ways  be  too  messy  for  her." 

While  he  lav  on  his  straw  mattress  thinking  of 
these  things,  a  distant  gallop  of  hoofs  woke  the  night, 
and  by  and  by,  with  nuich  clattering  of  loose  stones, 
a  horse  came  plunging  down  the  village  street. 

Old  Nicky,  who  slept  in  his  clothes,  was  out  of 
bed  and  ready  before  the  rider  drew  rein. 

"  'Tis  young  Tregenza  from  Kit's  Harbour,"  he 
muttered.  "  I  heard  that  his  missus  was  expectin'. 
Lord,  how  a  man  Avill  rido  for  his  first!  All  right! 
all  right !  "  he  sung  out,  fumbling  with  the  bar  as  the 
butt  of  a  riding-whip  rattled  on  the  shutter.  "  Be 
that  you,  Mr.  Tregenza  ?  " 

"  For  the  Lord's  sake,  uncle !  "  an  agitated  voice 
made  answer  out  of  the  darkness. 

"There,  there!  Yours  liou't  the  first  case  that 
have  happened,  my  lad,  and  you'll  ride  easier  next 
time.  Hitch  up  the  horse,  and  I'll  have  the  boat  out 
in  two  two's." 

"  Why  can't  you  fetch  out  the  horse-boat  ?  " 

"  Because,  my  son,  I  ben't  the  proper  ferrvman. 
You  must  ride  back  up  the  hill  if  you  want  he;  and 

260 


EIGHT    OF    FERRY 

even  so,  I  doubt  he'll  have  to  knock  up  the  folks  at 
Hall  to  get  at  the  keys." 

Mr.  Tregenza  broke  out  into  impatient  swearing 
on  all  who  delayed  travel  on  the  king's  highway. 

"  You  may  leave  your  curses,  young  man,  to  them 
with  a  better  right  to  use  'em.  Thank  the  Almighty 
there's  a  boat  to  put  you  across.  Hosken's  blue  boat 
it  is ;  you'll  find  her  ready  to  launch,  down  'pon  the 
slip.  Take  her  and  pull  for  the  doctor.  Tell  'en 
'tis  no  use  his  bringing  a  horse,  for  there's  no  boat 
to  fetch  a  horse  over.  But  there's  Tank's  grey  mare 
up  to  the  inn.  I'll  have  her  ready  saddled  for  him, 
if  he'll  promise  to  ride  steady  and  mind  the  sore  'pon 
her  near  shoulder." 

All  the  village  had  heard  the  midnight  gallop  of 
hoofs ;  all  the  village  had  guessed  accurately  who  the 
rider  was,  and  why  he  rodo.  But  Nicky's  dismissal 
was  known  to  a  few  only.  Soon  after  daybreak  the 
news  of  this  spread  too,  with  the  circumstance  that 
only  Nicky's  good-nature  had  kept  clear  the  king's 
highway  for  a  message  which  above  all  others  needs 
to  be  carried  with  speed. 

Nicky  sat  complacent  off  the  ferry-slip  in  Hos- 
ken's blue  boat  when  tlie  new  ferryman  arrived 
(twenty  minutes  late,  ])y  reason  of  his  having  to 
fetch  the  keys  from  Ilnll),  and  stolidly  undid  tlie 
padlock  fastening  the  official  craft. 

261 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Aw,  good-mornin' !  "  Nicky  hailed  him. 

"  Mornin'/'  said  the  new  ferryman, 

*'  We're  in  opposition,  it  seems." 

"  Darned  if  I  care."  The  new  ferryman  lit  his 
pipe  and  spat.     "  My  name's  Elijah  Bohe." 

"  Then,  Elijah  Bohe,  you  may  as  well  go  home. 
'Tis  Sunday,  and  a  slack  day ;  but,  were  it  Saturday 
and  full  business,  your  takings  wouldn't  cover  your 
keep." 

"  Darned  if  I  care/'  Mr.  Bobe  repeated.  "  I'm 
])aid  by  the  week."  He  sucked  at  his  pipe  for  a 
while.  "  Ticklish  job,  ain't  it  ? — interferin'  with  a 
private  ferry  ?  "  he  asked. 

But  Nicky  had  taken  opinion  upon  this.  So  far 
as  he  could  discover,  the  case  lay  thus :  Of  the  ferry 
itself  nothing  belonged  to  Lady  Killiow  but  the  slip- 
way on  the  near  shore.  The  farther  slipway  was  not 
precisely  no-man's-land,  for  the  foreshore  belonged  to 
the  Duchy,  and  the  soil  iiiniiediately  above  it  to  Sir 
George  Dinham  ;  but  here  half  a  dozen  separate  inter- 
ests came  into  conflict.  Sir  George,  while  asserting 
ownership  of  the  land,  would  do  nothing  to  repair  or 
maintain  the  slip  on  it,  arguing  very  reasonably  that 
he  derived  no  profit  from  the  dues,  and  that  since 
these  went  to  Lady  Killiow,  she  was  bound  to  main- 
tain her  own  landing-places.  Rosewarne,  on  the  other 
hand,   as  Lady  Killiow's  steward,  Hatly  refused  to 

262 


RIGHT    OF    FERRY 

execute  repairs  upon  another  person's  property.  The 
Duchy,  being  appealed  to,  told  the  two  parties  (in 
effect)  to  fight  it  out.  The  Highway  Board  was  ready 
enough  to  maintain  the  road  down  to  highwater  mark, 
but,  on  legal  advice,  declined  to  go  farther.  The  Har- 
bour Commissioners  held  that  to  repair  a  private  ferry 
was  no  business  of  theirs,  and,  although  the  condition 
of  the  slipway  had  for  years  been  a  scandal,  refused 
to  meddle.  The  whole  dispute  raised  the  nice  legal 
points,  What  is  a  ferry  ?  Does  the  term  include  not 
only  the  boat  but  access  to  the  boat  ?  And,  inciden- 
tally, if  anyone  broke  a  leg  on  the  town  shore  on  his 
way  between  highwater  mark  and  the  boat,  from 
whom  could  he  recover  damages  ? 

In  short,  Nicky  felt  easy  enough  about  landing  and 
embarking  his  passengers  on  the  town  shore.  Rose- 
warne  could  not  challenge  him  without  raising  the 
whole  question  of  the  slipway.  But  on  the  near  shore 
he  must  act  circumspectly.  To  be  sure  the  approach 
to  the  water  here  was  part  of  the  king's  highway. 
The  whole  village  used  it,  and  moored  their  boats  with- 
out let  or  hindrance  off  the  slip  which  (since  the  land 
belonged  to  the  Killiow  estate)  the  Rosewarnes  had 
kept  in  good  repair,  and  without  demur.  But  it  was 
clearly  understood — and  Nicky,  a  few  hours  ago, 
would  have  asserted  it  as  stubbornly  as  anyone — that 
the  sole  right  of  taking  a  passenger  on  board  here 

2G3 


SHINING    FERRY 

for  hire  and  conveying  him  across  to  the  town  apper- 
tained to  the  Killiow  ferryman. 

As  it  happened,  however,  at  the  back  of  Nicky's 
cottage  a  narrow  lane,  ])ublic  though  seldom  used,  ran 
down  to  the  waterside,  to  a  shelf  of  rock  less  than  a 
stone's  throw  from  the  slip,  and,  when  cleared  of  weed 
below  the  tide-mark,  by  no  means  inconvenient  for 
embarking  passengers.  A  rusty  ring,  clamped  into 
the  living  rock,  survived  to  tell  of  days  before  steam- 
tugs  were  invented,  when  vessels  had  painfully  to 
warp  their  way  up  and  down  the  river.  Through  this 
ring,  no  man  forbidding  him,  Mr.  Ilosken  had  run 
a  frape,  on  which  he  kept  his  blue  boat,  now  leased  to 
Nicky  for  a  nominal  rent  of  sixpence  a  week. 

"  And  why  not  use  this  for  your  ferry-landing  ?  " 
Mr.  Ilosken  suggested.  "  Rosewarne  can't  touch  ye 
here." 

"Sure?" 

"  I  reckon  I  ought  to  know  the  tithe-maps  by 
heart ;  and,  by  them,  this  parcel  of  shore  belongs  to 
nobody,  unless  it  be  to  Her  Majesty." 

Nicky  chuckled  with  a  wheezy  cunning. 

It  happened  as  lie  liad  jiromii^ed  the  new  ferry- 
man. Mr.  Sam's  unpopularity  had  been  growing  in 
the  village  since  the  eviction  of  Mrs.  Trevarthen. 
Aunt  Butson,  after  a  vain  attempt  to  find  labour  in 
the  fields,  had  followed  her  to  the  almshouse  across 

2G4 


EIGHT    OF    FEKRY 

the  water.  The  cause  of  Mr.  Benny's  dismissal  had 
been  freely  canvassed  and  narrowly  guessed  at. 
Against  this  new  stroke  of  tyranny  the  public  re- 
volted. Living  so  far  from  their  own  church  and  a 
mile  from  the  nearest  chapel,  numbers  of  the  villagers 
were  wont  on  Sundays  to  cross  over  to  the  town  for 
their  religion,  and  to-day  with  one  consent  they 
stepped  into  Xicky's  blue  boat,  while  Mr.  Bobe 
smoked  and  spat,  and  regarded  them  with  a  lazy  in- 
terest. Towards  evening  the  old  man  jingled  a  pock- 
etful of  coppers. 

"Whv  ever  didn't  I  think  o'  this  before?"  he 
asked  aloud.  "  Here  I've  a-been  near  upon  fifty  years 
earnin'  twelve  shillings  a  week,  and  all  the  while 
miffht  ha'  been  a  rich  man  and  my  own  master !  " 

Next  day  he  sought  out  Mr.  Toy,  and  Mr.  Toy 
obligingly  painted  and  lettered  a  board  for  him,  and 
helped  to  fix  it  against  the  wall  of  his  hovel  overlook- 
ing the  lane — 


THIS    WAY    TO 


K    VRO    FEBRYMAN 
THE    OLD    FIRM 


2G5 


SHINING    FERRY 

Here  was  defiance  indeed,  a  flaunted  banner  of 
revolt !  The  villagers,  who  had  hitherto  looked  upon 
the  old  man  as  half-witted  but  harmless,  suddenly  dis- 
covered him  to  be  a  hero,  and  Mr.  Toy  gave  himself 
a  holiday  to  stand  beneath  the  board  and  explain  it 
to  all  the  country  folk  coming  to  use  the  ferry.  So 
well  did  he  succeed  that  between  sunset  and  sunrise 
the  only  passenger  by  the  official  boat  was  Mr.  Sam 
himself,  on  his  way  to  seek  and  take  counsel  with 
Lawyer  Tulse. 

Of  their  interview  no  result  appeared  for  ten  days, 
during  which  Nicky  saw  himself  acquiring  wealth 
beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice.  Already  he  despised 
what  at  first  had  been  so  terrible,  the  prospect  of  be- 
ing turned  out  of  house  and  home.  He  could  snap 
his  fingers,  and  let  ]\Ir.  Sam  do  his  worst.  He  no 
longer  thought  of  hiring  a  bedroom ;  he  would  rent 
a  small  cottage  from  ITosken,  and  perhaps  engage  a 
housekeeper.  It  is  to  be  feared  that  in  these  days 
Nicky  gave  way  to  boasting;  but  much  may  be  for- 
given to  a  man  who  blossoms  out  into  a  hero  at 
eighty. 

On  the  twelfth  day  of  his  prosperity,  as  he  rested 
on  his  oars  off  the  town-landing  and  dreamed  of  a  day 
when,  by  purchasing  a  horse-boat,  he  would  deprive 
the  official  ferry  of  its  only  source  of  revenue,  and 
close  all  competition,  a  seedy-looking  man  in  a  frayed 

266 


RIGHT    OF    FERRY 

overcoat  stepped  down  the  slipway  and  accosted 
him. 

"  Is  your  name  l^icholas  Vro  ?  " 

"  It  is ;  and  you'm  askin'  after  the  right  boat, 
stranger  though  you  be.     Step  aboard,  mister." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  the  seedy-looking  man,  "  but 
I  don't  need  to  cross.  The  fact  is,  I've  a  paper  to 
deliver  to  you." 

Nicky,  as  he  did  not  mind  confessing,  was  "  no 
scholar  " ;  he  could  read  at  the  best  with  great  diffi- 
culty, and  he  had  left  his  spectacles  at  home. 

"  What's  the  meaning  o'  this  ?  "  he  asked,  turning 
the  document  over. 

"  It's  an  injunction." 

"  That  makes  me  no  wiser,  my  son." 

"  It's  a  paper  to  restrain  you  from  plying  this 
ferry  for  hire  pending  a  suit  Killiow  versus  Vro  in 
which  you  are  named  as  defendant." 

"  '  Suit ' — '  verses  '  ?  Darn  the  fellow,  what's  to 
do  with  verses  ?  Come  to  me  with  your  verses !  " 
Nicky  tossed  the  injunction  contemptuously  down  in 
the  sternsheets. 

"  You'll  find  'tis  the  law,"  said  the  stranger  Avarn- 
ingly. 

"  The  iaAV  ?  I've  a-seen  the  law,  my  friend,  over 
to  Bodmin,  and  'tis  a  very  different  looking  chap  from 
you,  I  can  assure  'ee.    The  law  rides  in  a  gilt  coach 

267 


SHINING   FERRY 

with  trumpets  afore  it,  and  two  six-foot  fellows  up 
bpliiiid  ill  silk  stockings  and  powder.  The  law  be 
that  high  and  mighty  it  can't  even  wear  its  own 
nat'ral  hair.  And  you  come  to  me  stinkin'  of  beer 
ill  a  reach-me-down  overcoat,  and  pretend  you  be  the 
law !  You'll  be  tellin'  me  next  you're  Queen  Vic- 
toria. But  it  shows  what  a  poor  kind  o'  ease  Rose- 
warne  must  have,  that  he  threatens  me  wi'  such  a 
make-believe." 

That  Nicky  had  been  alarmed  for  the  moment 
cannot  be  denied.  Ilis  uneasiness  died  away,  how- 
ever, as  the  days  passed  and  nothing  happened.  The 
paper  he  stowed  away  at  home  in  the  skivet  of  his 
chest,  and  very  foolishly  said  nothing  about  it  even  to 
his  neighbour  Ilosken. 

Indeed  he  had  almost  forgotten  it  when,  just  be- 
fore Christmas,  the  stranger  appeared  again  on  the 
slip  with  another  paper. 

"  Hullo  !     More  verses  ?  " 

"  You've  to  show  cause  why  you  shouldn't  be  com- 
mitted for  contempt." 

"  Oh,  have  I  ?  Well,  a  man  can't  liolp  his  feel- 
in's,  but  I'm  sorry  if  I  said  anything  the  other  day 
to  hurt  yours;  for  a  man  caiTt  hclj)  liis  appearance, 
neither,  up  to  a  point." 

"  You've  none  too  civil  a  tongue,"  answered  the 
stranger,  "  but  I  think  it  a  kindness  to  warn  you.    By 

268 


EIGHT    OF    FERRY 

continuing  to  ply  this  ferry  you're  showing  contempt 
for  the  law,  and  the  law  is  going  to  punish  you." 

Nicky  thought  this  out,  but  could  not  understand 
it  at  all.  If  Mr.  Sam  had  a  legal  right  to  stop  him, 
why  hadn't  he  sent  the  police,  or  at  least  a  "  sum- 
mons "  ?  As  for  going  to  prison,  that  only  happened 
to  thieves  and  criminals.  No  man  could  be  locked 
up  for  pulling  a  boat  to  and  fro ;  the  notion  was  absurd 
on  the  face  of  it. 

Two  days  later  he  sought  out  Mr.  Benny,  and 
showed  him  the  documents. 

"  I  wish  you'd  make  head  or  tail  of  'em  for  me. 
They're  pretendin'  somehow  that  Qiieen  Victoria  her- 
self is  mixed  up  in  it.  God  bless  her !  and  me  that 
have  never  clapped  eyes  on  her  nor  wished  her  aught 
but  in  health  an'  wealth  long  to  live,  Amen." 

"  Oh,  Nicky,  Nicky  !  "  Mr.  Benny  lea]it  up  from 
his  chair.  "  What  have  you  done !  and  what  a  crim- 
inal fool  was  I  not  to  keep  an  eye  on  you !  " 

"  From  all  I  hear,"  said  Nicky,  "  you've  had 
enough  to  do  lookin'  after  yourself.  Be  it  true,  as  I 
hear  tell,  tliat  Rosewarne  gave  you  the  sack  on  my 
account  ?  " 

"  Never  talk  of  that,"  commanded  Mr.  Benny. 
"  Go  you  home  now,  lock  up  your  boat,  get  a  night's 
rest,  and  expect  me  early  to-morrow  morning.  Be- 
tween this  and  then  I  will  sec  what  can  be  done."    But 

269 


SHINING    FERRY 

his  heart  sank  as  he  glanced  again  at  the  date  on  the 
document. 

Indeed  he  was  too  late.  After  an  ineffectual  inter- 
view with  Mr.  Tulse,  the  little  man  rushed  ofF  to  the 
ferrj,  intent  on  facing  Mr.  Sam  in  his  den  and  plead- 
ing for  mercy.  But  as  he  reached  the  slip  the  official 
ferry-boat  came  alongside,  and  in  the  sternsheets  be- 
side the  town  policeman  sat  Nicky  Vro,  on  his  way 
to  Bodmin  gaol. 


270 


CHAPTER    XIX 


THE  INTERCEDERS 


"  Clem  !  " 

The  blind  child  awoke  at  the  touch  of  his  sister's 
hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  turned  drowsily  in  his 
bed. 

"Eh?  What's  the  matter?"  A  moment  later 
he  sat  up  in  alarm  and  put  out  a  hand  as  if  to  feel 
the  darkness.     "  It  isn't  morning  yet !  " 

"  No ;  but  the  gromid  is  all  covered  with  snow, 
and  you  can't  think  what  funny  lights  are  dancing 
over  it  across  the  sky.  I've  been  watching  them  for 
minutes  and  minutes." 

"  What  sort  of  lights  ?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you,  because  I  never  saw  the  like 
of  them.  Sometimes  they're  white,  and  sometimes 
they're  violet,  and  then  again  green  and  orange. 
They  run  right  across  the  sky  like  ribbons  waving, 
and  once  they  turned  to  red  and  lit  up  the  snow  as 
far  as  I  could  see." 

"  You've  been  catching  your  death  of  cold."  Clem 
could  hear  her  teeth  chattering. 

271 


SHINING   FERRY 


t( 


I'm  not  so  very  cold,"  Myra  declared  bravely. 
"  I  took  oflF  the  coimterpane  and  wrapped  it  round 
me.     You'll  come,  won't  you,  dear  ?  " 

Clem  knew  why  he  was  summoned.  Two  days 
ago  Susannah  had  told  them  of  an  old  woman  living 
at  Market  Jew  who  had  mixed  a  pot  of  green  oint- 
ment and  touched  her  eyes  witli  it,  and  ever  after- 
wards seen  the  fairies.  At  once  Myra,  who  was 
naught  if  not  practical,  had  secreted  Susannah's  jar 
of  cold  cream  (kept  to  preserve  the  children's  skin 
from  freckles)  and  a  phial  of  angelica-water  from 
the  store-closet,  and  stirred  these  into  a  beautiful 
green  paste,  and  had  anointed  her  own  eyes  and 
Clem's  with  it,  using  incantations — 

"  Christ  walked  a  little,  a  little 

Before  the  sun  did  rise  ; 
Christ  mixed  clay  with  spittle, 

And  cured  a  blind  man's  eyes; 
This  m.an,  and  that  man, 

And  likewise  Bartimee — 
What  Christ  did  for  these  poor  men 

I  hope  He'll  do  for  me." 

The  charm,  however,  had  not  worked.  Perhaps  it 
needed,  time  to  operate,  and  the  children  had  despaired 
too  soon. 

"  Why  didn't  you  come  to  me  at  once  ? "  de- 
manded Clem. 

272 


THE    INTERCEDERS 

"  I  didn't  dare."  Myra  trembled  now,  on  tlie 
verge  of  putting  her  hopes  to  the  touch.  Though 
these  were  but  pisky-lights,  what  bliss  if  Clem  should 
behold  them  !  "  Besides,  I  saw  a  light  across  the  yard 
in  Archelaus  Libby's  garret.  I  believe  he  is  awake 
there,  with  his  telescope,  and  he  can't  have  tried  the 
ointment.  You  won't  be  terribly  disappointed,  dear, 
if"— 

He  slid  out  of  bed  and  took  her  hand. 

He  was  a  brave  boy ;  and  when  she  led  him  to 
her  window  and  he  saw  nothing,  his  first  thought 
was  for  her  disappointment,  to  soothe  it  as  well  as 
he  might. 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  he  whispered,  nestling  down 
on  the  window-seat  and  drawing  her  head  close  to 
his  shoulder ;  for  after  the  pause  that  destroyed  hope 
she  had  broken  down,  her  body  shaking  with  muffled 
sobs,  woeful  to  feel  and  to  hear.  Outside,  the  ISTorth- 
ern  Lights — the  "  merry-dancers  " — yet  flickered 
over  the  snowy  roof-ridges  and  the  snowy  uplands 
beyond. 

"  I  am  going  to  dress,"  she  announced,  as  the 
gust  of  sobbing  spent  itself.  "  If  Archelaus  Libby 
is  awake,  he  will  tell  us  what  it  means." 

"  Take  me  with  you." 

Though  prepared  to  go  alone,  she  had  hoped  he 
would  ask  this,  being — to  confess  the  truth — more 

273 


SHINING   FERRY 

than  half  afraid  of  the  dark  landing  and  passages 
below.  The  two  dressed  themselves  and  crept  doAvn- 
stairs.  In  the  hall,  remembering  their  former  ex- 
pedition, Myra  felt  the  bolt  of  the  front  door  cautious- 
ly; but  this  time  it  was  sluit.  They  stole  down  the 
side-passage  to  the  kitchen,  where  a  fire  burned  all 
night  in  the  great  chimney-place  on  a  bed  of  white 
wood  ashes.  Kneeling  in  the  faint  glow  of  it  they 
drew  on  and  laced  their  boots,  then  unlatched  the 
kitchen  window  and  dropped  out  upon  the  snow. 

Archelaus  Libby  had  been  given  a  garret  over 
the  cider  house,  where  he  slept  or  studied  in  a  per- 
petual odour  of  dried  russet  apples  and  Spanish 
onions.  He  was  awake  and  dressed,  and  welcomed 
the  children  gaily  by  the  light  of  a  tallow  candle. 
His  simple  mind  found  nothing  to  wonder  at  in  this 
nocturnal  visit.  Was  not  the  Aurora  Borealis  per- 
forming in  all  its  splendour  ?  Then  naturally  the 
whole  world  must  he  awake  with  him  and  excited. 

He  showed  Myra  its  wondcn-s  through  the  tele- 
scope, discoursing  on  them  with  glee. 

"But  Avhat  does  it  mean? '^  she  asked. 

He  told  her  how  it  was  caused,  and  how  a  clever 
man  had  once  made  a  toy  with  a  bright  lamp,  a  globe 
sprinkled  witli  ground  glass,  and  tlic  vapour  of  a 
sponge  pressed  on  hot  iron,  repeating  the  phenomenon 

274 


THE    INTEKCEDEES 

on  a  tinj  scale.  "  We  will  try  it  ourselves  to-mor- 
row," he  promised. 

The  ribbons  of  light  were  playing  hide-and-seek 
behind  a  distant  wooded  hill,  now  and  again  so 
vividly  that  its  outline  stood  up  clear  against  them. 

"  That  will  be  the  moors  above  Damelioc,"  said 
Archelaus.  ''  If  you  watch  through  the  glass,  you 
will  see  the  monument  there — the  one  on  the  battle- 
field, you  know.  I  saw  it,  just  now,  plain  as  plain. 
And  once  I  thought  I  saw  the  taller  monument,  over 
Bodmin." 

''  That's  where  they've  put  Uncle  Vro  in  gaol." 

"  I  was  thinking  of  him  just  now.  Miss  Myra. 
It  will  be  cold  for  him  to-night  over  there  in  his 
cell." 

"  I  wonder  if  Lady  Killiow  knows,"  said  Myra 
musingly. 

"  They  were  talking  about  it  in  the  kitchen  to- 
night," said  Archelaus,  "  and  all  agreed  that  she 
knew  naught  about  it.  Miss  Susannah  was  saying 
that  Peter  Bennv  had  been  across  here,  bold  as  a 
lion,  this  afternoon,  and  spoke  up  to  your  uncle  about 
it.  Their  voices  were  so  loud  that  from  the  great 
parlour  she  heard  every  word ;  and  Mr.  Benny  was 
threatening  to  tell  Lady  Killiow  what  he  was  doing 
in  her  name,   and,  what's  more,  to  write  up  to  his 

275 


SHINING    FERRY 

brother  and  get  the  whole  story  in  the  London 
papers." 

"  But  has  he  told  her  ?  " 

Clem  caught  his  sister  suddenly  by  the  arm.  The 
child  was  shaking  from  head  to  foot.  "  Peter  Benny 
has  not  told  her !  Come  away,  Myra,  and  leave 
Archelaus  to  his  telescope.  I  want  you,  back  at  the 
house !  " 

"  Why,  whatever  has  taken  you  ?  "  she  asked,  be- 
lieving him  ill.  Having  wished  Archelaus  good- 
night and  hurried  Clem  down  the  garret  stairs,  she 
repeated  her  question  anxiously.  "  Come  back  to 
bed,  Clem ;  you're  shaking  like  a  leaf !  " 

"  The  lights !  "  stammered  the  child.  "  I  saw 
them." 

"  You  saw  them !  "  Myra  echoed  slowly. 

"  Yes,  yes — over  Bodmin  and  over  Damelioc. 
How  far  is  it  to  Damelioc  ?  " 

"  Four  or  five  miles  maybe.  But,  Clem,  you 
don't  mean  " —  She  stared  into  his  face  by  the  wan 
light  of  the  Aurora  reflected  from  the  snow.  Read- 
ing his  resolve,  she  became  practical  at  once.  "  Stay 
here  and  don't  stir,"  she  commanded,  "  while  I  creep 
back  to  the  larder  and  forage." 

Dawn  overtook  them  at  the  lodge-gates  of  Dame- 
lioc; a  still  dawn,  with  a  clear,  steel-blue  sky  and  the 

276 


THE    INTERCEDEKS 

promise  of  a  crisp,  bright  day.  It  had  been  freez- 
ing all  night,  and  was  freezing  still ;  the  snow  as 
yet  lay  like  a  fine  powder,  and  so  impetuously 
had  they  hurried,  hand  in  hand,  that  along  the 
uplands  they  scarcely  felt  the  edge  of  the  wind- 
less air.  But  here  in  the  valley  bottom,  under  the 
trees  beside  the  stream,  they  passed  into  a  different 
atmosphere,  and  shivered.  Here,  too^  for  the  first 
half-mile — road  and  sward  being  covered  alike  with 
snow — Myra  had  much  ado  to  steer^  and  would  cer- 
tainly have  missed  her  way  but  for  the  black  tumbling 
stream  on  her  right.  She  knew  that  the  drive  ran 
roughly  parallel  with  it,  and  never  more  than  a 
few  paces  distant  from  its  brink.  Twice  in  her  life 
she  had  journeyed  with  her  grandmother  in  high 
June  to  Lady  Killiow's  rose-show,  and  she  remem- 
bered being  allowed  to  kneel  on  the  cushions  of  the 
"  car "  and  wonder  at  the  miniature  bridges  and 
cascades.  By  keeping  close  beside  the  water  she 
could  not  go  wrong. 

They  halted  by  a  bridge  below  the  lake  where  the 
woods  divided  to  right  and  left  at  the  foot  of  the  great 
home-park.  A  cold  fog  lay  over  the  water  and  the 
reedy  islands  where  the  wild  duck  and  moorhens  were 
just  beginning  to  stir,  but  above  it  a  glint  or  two 
of  sunshine  touched  the  wintry  boughs,  and  while  it 
grew  and   ran  along  them   and  lit   up  their  snowy 

277 


SHINING    FERRY 

upper  surfaces  as  with  diamonds,  a  full  morning 
beam  smote  on  the  fagado  of  the  house  itself,  high 
above  the  slope,  uplifted  above  the  fog  as  it  were 
a  heavenly  palace  raised  u})on  a  base  of  cloud. 

Daunted  by  the  vision,  Myra  glanced  at  Clem. 
His  face  was  lifted  towards  the  sunlight. 

"  The  house !  "  she  whispered.  "  Oh,  Clem,  it's 
ever  so  much  grander  than  I  remembered !  "  She  be- 
gan to  describe  it  to  him,  while  they  divided  and 
munched  the  crusts  she  had  fetched  from  Susannah's 
bread-pan. 

"  If  her  palace  is  as  fine  as  that,"  said  Clem, 
with  great  cheerfulness,  "  she  must  be  a  very  great 
lady,  and  can  easily  do  what  we  want." 

They  took  hands  again  and  mounted  the  curving 
drive  to  the  terrace  and  the  cavernous  porte-cochere, 
where  hung  a  bell-pull  so  huge  that  Myra  had  to 
clasp  it  in  both  hands  and  drag  upon  it  with  all  her 
weight.  Far  in  the  bowels  of  the  house  a  bell  clanged, 
deep  and  hollow-voiced  as  for  a  funeral. 

A  footman  answered  it — a  young  giant  in  blue 
livery  and  powder.  Flinging  wide  the  vast  door, 
he  stared  down  upon  the  visitors,  and  his  Olympian 
haughtiness  gave  way  to  a  broad  grin. 

"  Well,  I'm  jiggered !  "  said  the  footman. 

"  You  may  be  jiggered  or  not,"  answered  ^I^-ra, 
with  sudden  aplomb  (a  moment  before,  she  had  been 

278 


THE    INTERCEDERS 

ready  to  run),  "but  we  wish  to  see  Lady  Killiow. 
Will  you  announce  us,  please  ?  " 

Two  hours  later,  when  the  sun  had  risen  above 
the  trees,  Sir  George  Dinham  came  riding  up  through 
Damelioc  Park.  He  too  came  to  right  a  wrong, 
having  given  his  promise  to  Mr.  Benny  overnight. 
He  rode  slowly,  pondering.  On  his  way  he  noted 
the  footprints  of  two  children  on  the  snow,  except 
by  them  untrodden ;  marked  how  they  wandered  off 
here  and  there  towards  the  stream,  but  ever  returned, 
regained  the  way,  and  held  on  for  Damelioc.  He 
wondered  what  they  might  mean. 

Lady  Killiow  received  him  in  her  morning-room. 
She  wore  a  bonnet  and  a  long  cloak  of  sables,  and 
was  obviously  dressed  for  a  drive.  She  rose  from 
before  her  writing-table,  where  she  was  sealing  a 
letter. 

"  I  interrupt  you  ? "  said  Sir  George  as  they 
shook  hands,  and  glancing  out  of  the  window  he  had 
a  glimpse  of  the  heads  of  a  pair  of  restless  bays. 
Unheard  by  him — the  snow  lying  six  inches  deep 
before  the  porch — Lady  Killiow's  carriage  had  come 
round  from  the  stables  a  minute  after  his  arrival. 

"  But  if  I  guess  your  errand,"  she  said,  "  I  was 
merely  about  to  forestall  it.  I  am  driving  to 
Bodmin." 

279 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  You  knew  nothing,  then,  of  this  poor  old  creat- 
ure's case  ? " 

"  My  friend,  I  hope  that  you  too  have  only  just 
discovered  it,  or  you  would  have  warned  me." 

"  I  heard  of  it  last  night  for  the  first  time.  Rose- 
warne  alone  is  responsible  for  the  prosecution  ?  " 

"  He  only."  She  nodded  towards  the  letter  on 
the  writing-table.  "  I  have  asked  him  to  attend  here 
when  I  return,  and  explain  himself.     Meanwhile  " — 

"  But  what  can  you  do  ?  " 

"  The  poor  soul  is  in  prison." 

"  That  is  where  I  came  to  offer  my  help.  The 
Assizes  are  not  over.  The  same  judge  who  committed 
him  has  been  delayed  there  for  three  days  by  a  nisi 
prius  suit — an  endless  West  Cornwall  will  case." 

"  You  did  not  suppose,  surely,  that  this  was  hap- 
pening with  any  consent  of  mine  ?  " 

"  No,"  Sir  George  answered  slowly,  "  I  did  not. 
But  do  you  know.  Lady  Killiow,  that,  without  any 
consent  of  ours,  you  and  I  have  nearly  been  in 
litigation  over  this  same  wretched  ferry  ? "  He 
smiled  at  her  surprise.  "  Oh  yes,  I  could  help  the 
Radicals  to  make  out  a  very  good  case  against  us !  " 

"  I  learned  to  trust  my  old  steward.  It  seems 
that  I  have  carried  over  my  trust  too  carelessly  to 
this  son  of  his,  and  with  the  less  excuse  because  I 
dislike  the  man.     The  fact  is,  I  am  getting  old." 

280 


THE    INTERCEDERS 

"  May  I  say  humbly  that  you  defend  yourself 
before  a  far  worse  sinner  in  these  matters  ?  And 
may  I  say,  too,  that  your  care  for  Damelioc  and  its 
tenantry  has  always  been  quoted  in  my  hearing  as 
exemplary  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  defending  m^-self.  I  have  been  to 
blame,  though,"  she  added  with  a  twinkle,  "  I  do 
not  propose  to  confess  this  to  my  steward.  I  have 
been  bitterly  to  blame,  and  my  first  business  at 
Bodmin  will  be  to  ask  this  old  man's  pardon." 

"And  after?" 

"  He  must  be  released,  and  at  once.  Can  this 
be  done  by  withdrawing  the  suit  ?  or  must  there  be 
delays  ?  " 

"  He  must  purge  his  offence,  I  fear,  unless  you 
can  persuade  the  judge  to  reconsider  it.  If  I  can 
help  you  in  this,  I  would  beg  for  the  privilege." 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend.  I  was  on  the  point  of 
asking  what  you  offer.  You  had  best  leave  your  horse 
here  and  take  a  seat  in  my  carriage." 

"  But,"  said  Sir  George,  as  she  moved  to  the 
door,  "  you  have  not  yet  told  me  how  you  learned  the 
news — who  was  beforehand  with  me." 

"  You  shall  see."  She  crossed  the  corridor,  and 
softly  opening  a  door,  invited  him  to  look  within. 
There,  in  the  lofty  panelled  breakfast-room,  at  a 
table  reflected  as  a  small  white  island  in  a  sea  of 

281 


SHINING    FEKRY 

polished  floor,  sat  Myra  and  Clem  replete  and  laugh- 
ing, unembarrassed  by  the  splendid  footman  who 
waited  on  them,  and  reckless  that  the  huge  bunch  of 
grapes  at  which  they  pulled  was  of  December's 
growing. 

Sir  George  laughed  too  as  he  looked.  "  But,  good 
heavens !  "  said  he,  remembering  the  footprints  on 
the  drive,  "  they  must  have  left  home  before  day- 
light !  " 

"  They  started  in  the  dead  of  night,  so  far  as  I 
can  gather.  Eh  ?  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  turning 
upon  another  footman,  who  had  come  briskly  down 
the  corridor  and  halted  behind  her,  obviously  with 
a  message. 

"  Mr.  Rosewarne,  my  lady.  He  has  just  come 
in  by  way  of  the  stables.  He  has  seen  the  carriage 
waiting,  but  asks  me  to  say  that  he  will  not  detain 
your  ladyship  a  minute." 

"  He  has  come  for  the  children,  no  doubt.  Very 
well ;  I  will  see  him  in  the  morning-room."  As  the 
man  held  open  the  door  for  her  she  motioned  to 
Sir  George  to  precede  her.  "  I  shall  defer  discussing 
Mr.  Rosewarne's  conduct  with  him.  For  the  moment 
we  have  to  deal  with  its  results,  and  you  may  wish 
to  ask  him  some  questions." 

Mr.  Sam  never  committed  himself  to  horseback, 
but  employed  a  light  gig  for  his  journeys  to  and 

282 


THE    IXTERCEDERS 

from  Damelioc.  Tlie  cold  drive  having  reddened  his 
ears  and  lent  a  touch  of  blue  to  his  nose,  his  ap- 
pearance this  morning  was  more  than  usually  un- 
prepossessing. 

"  I  will  not  detain  your  ladyship,"  he  began,  re- 
peating the  message  he  had  sent  by  the  footman. 
"  Ah,  Sir  George  Dinham  ?  Your  servant,  Sir 
George !  My  first  and  chief  business  was  to  recover 
my  runaways,  whom  your  ladyship  has  so  kindly 
looked  after." 

"  You  know  why  they  came  ?  "  asked  Lady  Kil- 
liow. 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  not  yet  had  an  op- 
portunity to  question  them.  Some  freak  of  the  girl's, 
-I  should  gTiess.  The  young  teacher  to  whom  I  give 
house-room  informs  me  that  thej  were  excited  last 
night  by  an  appearance  of  the  Northern  Lights — 
a  very  fine  display,  he  tells  me.  I  regret  that,  being 
asleep,  I  missed  it.  He  suggested  that  the  pair  had 
set  out  to  explore  the  phenomenon ;  and  that,  very 
likely,  is  the  explanation — more  especially  as  their 
footprints  led  me  due  northward.  ]\Iy  housekeeper 
tells  me  that  Myra — the  elder  child — firndy  believes 
a  pot  of  gold  to  be  buried  at  the  foot  of  every  rain- 
bow. A  singular  pair,  my  lady !  and  my  late  father 
scarcely  improved  matters  by  allowing  them  to  run 
wild." 

283 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  You  arc  mistaken,  ]\Ir.  Rosewarne.  Undoubt- 
edly they  folldwcd  the  Northern  Lights;  but  their 
purpose  you  will  hardly  guess.  It  was  to  intercede 
for  an  old  man  of  eighty,  whom,  it  appears,  I  have 
been  cruel  enough  to  lock  up  in  prison." 

Mr.  Sam's  face  expressed  annoyance  and  some- 
thing more. 

"  I  sincerely  trust,  my  lady,  they  have  not  suc- 
ceeded in  distressing  you." 

"  I  suppose  I  may  thank  Heaven,  sir,  that  they 
at  least  succeeded  so  far." 

Her  tone  completely  puzzled  Mr.  Sam,  who  de- 
tected the  displeasure  beneath  it,  but  in  all  honesty 
could  not  decide  whether  she  blamed  him  or  the 
children. 

"  A  painful  business,  my  lady.  The  poor  man 
was  past  his  work — a  nuisance  to  himself  and  to 
others.  These  last  scenes  of  our  poor  mortality — 
often,  as  it  seems  to  us  (could  we  be  the  judges)  so 
unduly  ju-otracted —  But  some  steps  had  to  be  taken. 
The  ferry  was  becoming  a  scandal.  I  felt  called  upon 
to  act,  and  to  act  firmly.  If  I  may  use  the  ex- 
pression, your  ladyship's  feelings  in  the  matter  would 
naturally  be  those  which  do  honour  to  your  ladyship's 
sex ;  they  would  be,  shall  I  say — er  " — 

"  Why  not  say  '  womanly,'  Mr.  Rosewarne  ?  " 

"  Ha,    precisely — womanly.      I   did  my   best  to 
spare  them."  2«4 


THE    IXTERCEDEES 

"  We  will  talk  of  that  later.  Just  now,  you 
will  please  instruct  us  how  best  to  release  the  poor 
man,  and  at  once.  May  I  remind  you  that  the 
horses  are  taking  cold  ?  " 

"  The  horses  ?  "  Mr,  Sam  stared  from  Lady 
Killiow  to  Sir  George.  "  Her  ladyship  doesn't  tell 
me  that  she  was  actually  proposing  to  drive  to  Bod- 
min ?  " 

"  I  start  within  five  minutes." 

"  But  it  is  useless !  " 

"  Useless  ? " 

"  The  man  is  dead." 

"  Mr.  Rosewarne  " — 

Mr.  Sam  drew  a  telegram  from  his  pocket.  "  I 
received  this  as  I  was  leaving  home.  The  governor 
of  the  prison  very  kindly  communicated  with  me  as 
soon  as  the  office  opened.  The  prisoner — as  I  heard 
from  the  policeman  who  escorted  him— collapsed  al- 
most as  soon  as  they  admitted  him,  I  telegraphed 
at  once  to  the  governor,  assuring  him  of  my  inter- 
est in  the  case  and  requesting  information.  This 
is  his  reply:  '  Vro  died  three-thirty  this  morning. 
Doctor  supposes  senile  decay. ^  It  was  considerate 
of  him  to  make  this  addition,  for  it  will  satisfy  your 
ladyship  that  we  acted,  though  unwillingly,  with  the 
plainest  possible  justification.  The  man  was  hope- 
lessly past  his  work." 

285 


SHINING   FEERY 

Sir  Gcorg;e,  who  had  been  staring  out  of  window, 
wheeled  about  abniptl}^,  lifted  his  head,  and  gazed 
at  j\lr.  Siitii  for  some  twenty  seconds  with  a  wonder- 
ing interest.     Then  he  turned  to  Lady  Killiow. 

"  Shall  1  send  back  the  carriage  ?  " 

"  Thank  yon,"  she  said ;  and  he  went  out,  with 
a  glance  at  her  face  which  silently  expressed  many 
things. 

"  Mr.  Rosewarne,"  she  began,  when  they  were 
alone,  "  if  I  began  to  say  what  I  think  of  this  business, 
a  person  of  your  instincts  would  at  once  fall  to  sup- 
posing that  I  shifted  the  blame  on  to  ^^our  shoulders, 
which  is  just  the  last  thing  in  the  world  I  mean  to 
do.  But  precisely  because  I  am  guilty,  and  precisely 
because  I  accept  responsibility  for  my  steward's  ac- 
tions, a  steward  who  conceals  his  actions  is  of  no 
use  to  me.     You  are  dismissed." 


286 


CHAPTER    XX 

AN    OUTBURST 

"I  saw  the  new  moon  late  yestreen, 
Wi'  the  auld  moon  in  her  arm," 

"  Miss  JVIaevi is^,  does  '  yestreen '  mean  '  last 
night ' ? " 

"  It  does." 

"  Then  I  wish  the  fellow  would  say  '  last  night/  " 
grumbled  Master  Calvin.  "  And  how  could  the  new 
moon  have  the  old  moon  in  her  arm  ?  " 

Hester  explained. 

"  But  moons  haven't  arms."  He  pushed  the  book 
away  pettishly.  "  I  hate  this  poetry !  Why  can't 
you  teach  me  what  I  want  ?  " 

"  That,"  said  Hester,  "  is  just  what  I  am  trying 
to  discover.    Will  you  tell  me  what  you  want  ?  " 

To  her  amazement,  he  bent  his  head  down  upon 
his  arms  and  broke  into  sobbing.  "  I  don't  know 
what  I  want !  Everyone  hates  me,  and  I — I  hate 
it  all!" 

Somehow,  Hester — who  had  started  by  misliking 
the  child,  and  only  with  the  gravest  misgivings  (yield- 
ing to  pressure  from  his  father)  had  consented  to  teach 

287 


SIIIXING    FERRY 

him  in  her  spare  hours — was  beginning  to  pity  him. 
This  new  feeling,  to  be  snre,  snflFered  from  severe 
and  constant  checks;  for  he  was  nnamiable  to  the 
last  degree,  and  seldom  awoke  a  spark  of  liking  but 
he  killed  it  again,  and  within  five  minntes,  by  doing 
or  saying  something  odious.  He  differed  from  other 
children,  and  differed  unpleasantly.  He  had  taken 
the  full  tinge  of  his  sanctimonious  upbringing;  he 
was  Pharisaical,  cruel  at  times,  incurably  twisted  by 
his  father's  creed  that  wrong  becomes  right  when 
committed  by  a  pious  person  from  pious  motives. 
(His  mother  had  once  destroyed  a  cat  because  she 
found  herself  growing  fond  of  it  and  believed  that 
a  Christian's  soul  must  be  weaned  of  all  earthly  af- 
fections.) He  appealed  to  Hester's  pity  because,  with 
all  this,  he  was  unhappy. 

She  had  been  teaching  him  languidly  and  inat- 
tentively to-day,  being  preoccupied  with  a  letter  in 
her  pocket;  and  to  this  letter,  having  set  him  to 
learn  his  verses  from  Sir  Patrick  Spens,  she  let  her 
thoughts  wander.     It  ran  : — 

"My  dear  Miss  Marvin, — After  much  hesitation  I  have 
decided  to  comiiiit  to  writing  a  proposal  which  has  been 
ripening  in  my  mind  during  our  tliree  months'  acquaint- 
ance. My  age  and  my  convictions  aUke  disincline  me  to 
set  too  much  store  on  the  emotion  men  call  'love,'  which 
in  my  experience  is  illusory  as  the  attractions  provoking  it 

288 


AN    OUTBURST 

are  superficial.  But  as  a  solitary  man  I  have  long  sighed 
for  the  blessings  of  Christian  companionship,  or  a  union 
founded  on  mutual  esteem  and  fruitful  in  well-doing. 
While  from  the  first  not  insensible  to  your  charms  of  per- 
son, I  have  allowed  my  inclination  to  grow  because  I  de- 
tected in  you  the  superior  graces  of  the  mind  and  a  strength 
of  character  which  could  not  be  other  than  sustaining  to 
the  man  fortunate  enough  to  possess  you  for  a  helpmeet. 
In  short,  luy  dear  Miss  Marvin,  you  would  gratify  me  in 
the  highest  degree  by  consenting  to  be  Mrs.  R.  I  am,  as 
you  are  probably  aware,  well-to-do.  The  circumstance  of 
my  being  a  widower  will  not,  I  hope,  weigh  seriously 
against  this  proposal  in  the  mind  of  one  who,  while  retain- 
ing the  personal  attractions  above  mentioned,  may  be  rea- 
sonably supposed  to  have  set  aside  the  romantic  illusions 
of  girlhood.  Awaiting  your  reply,  which  I  trust  may  be 
favourable,  I  remain,  yours  very  truly,  S.   Rosewakne. 

*'P.S. — Your  exceptional  gifts  in  the  handling  of  chil- 
dren assure  me  that  my  son  Calvin  would  receive  from 
you  a  care  no  less  than  motherly.  He  would  meet  it,  I 
feel  equally  sure,  with  a  responsive  affection.  " 

The  tone  of  this  letter  made  Hester  tingle  as  if 
some  of  its  phrases  had  been  thongs  to  scourge  her. 

Yet  it  must  be  answered. 

That  this  odious  man  should  have  dared — and  yet 
for  weeks  she  had  seen  it  coming.  Incredible  as  she 
found  it  that  a  man  from  whom  every  nerve  of  her 
body  recoiled  with  loathing  should  complacently 
ignore  the  signs,  should  complacently  persevere  in 
assuming  himself  to  be  agreeable  and  in  pressing  that 

289 


SHINING   FERRY 

assumption,  she  had  to  achiiit  that  the  offer  did  not 
take  her  wholly  by  surprise.  What  bruised  her  was 
the  insufferable  obtuseness  of  the  wording.  How  was 
it  possible  for  a  human  being  to  sit  down  in  good 
faith  and  pen  such  sentences  without  guessing  that 
they  hurt  or  insulted  ? 

Nevertheless  she  blessed  the  impulse  which  had 
prompted  him  to  write ;  for  in  writing  he  could  be 
answered.  All  day  she  had  gone  in  dread  of  meet- 
ing him  face  to  face. 

Once  or  twice,  while  she  pondered  her  answer, 
she  had  glanced  up  at  the  child,  as  if  he  could  explain 
his  father.  What  fatal  unhappy  gift  had  they  both, 
by  which  in  all  that  they  said  or  did  they  earned 
aversion  ? 

When  the  child  broke  down,  she  arose  with  a 
pang  of  self-reproach,  crossed  to  his  chair,  and  laid 
a  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Listen  to  me,  Calvin,"  she  said.  "  You  have 
told  me  one  thing  you  \\;mt:  you  want  people  to 
like  instead  of  disliking  you.  Well,  the  quickest  way 
is  to  find  out  what  they  want,  and  do  it,  forgetting 
yourself;  and  then,  perhaps  quite  suddenly,  you  will 
wake  up  and  discover  not  only  that  people  like  you 
already,  but  that  you  yourself  are  full  of  a  happiness 
you  can't  explain." 

The  gust  of  his  sobbing  grew  calmer  by  degrees. 

290 


AN    OUTBURST 

He  lifted  his  head  a  little^  but  not  to  look  her  in  the 
face. 

"  Is  that  puzzling  to  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Well, 
then,  just  give  it  a  small  trial  in  practice,  and  see 
how  it  works.  I  want  you,  for  instance,  to  learn  those 
verses.  You  don't  like  them ;  but  by  learning  them 
you  will  please  me,  and  you  want  to  please  me.  Try 
now !  " 

He  pulled  the  book  towards  him  and  bent  over 
it,  his  head  between  his  hands.  After  three  or  four 
minutes  he  stood  up,  red-eyed  and  a  little  defiant — 

"  '  I  saw  the  new  moon  late  yestreen, 
Wi'  the  auld  moon  in  her  arm  ; 
And  if  we  gang  to  sea,  master, 
I  fear  we'll  come  to  harm. ' 

They  hadna  sail'd  a  league,  a  league, 
A  league  but  barely  ane  " — 

Hester  listened  with  eyes  withdrawn,  in  delicacy 
avoiding  to  meet  his  tear-reddened  ones;  and  just 
then  from  the  upper  floor  a  scream  rang  through 
the  house — a  child's  scream. 

Master  Calvin  heard  it,  and  broke  off  with  a  grin. 

"  That  will  be  Myra,"  he  announced.  "  She's 
catching  it !  " 

Had  she  been  less  distraught,  Hester  might  have 
marked    and    sighed    over    his    sudden    relapse    into 

291 


SHINING    FERRY 

odioiisness.  But  she  had  risen  with  a  white  face; 
for  scream  followed  scream  overhead,  and  the  sound 
tortured  her, 

"  You  don't  tell  me  " —  she  began,  putting  up 
both  hands  to  her  ears.  "  No,  no — there  has  been 
some  accident !     The  poor  child  is  calling  for  help !  " 

She  ran  out  of  the  parlour,  up  the  two  flights  of 
stairs  and  along  a  dark  winding  corridor,  still  guided 
by  the  screams.  At  the  end  of  the  corridor  she 
found  Susannah,  pale,  wringing  her  hands,  outside 
a  door  which,  however,  she  made  no  attempt  to  enter. 

"  Oh,  miss,  he's  killing  her !  " 

"  Is  the  door  locked  ? "  panted  Hester,  at  the 
same  time  flinging  her  weight  against  it  as  she  turned 
the  handle.  It  flew  open,  and  she  confronted — not 
Myra,  but  Mr.  Sam. 

He  stood  between  her  and  the  window  with  an  arm 
uplifted  and  in  his  hand  a  leathern  strap ;  and  while 
she  recoiled  for  an  instant,  the  strap  descended  across 
the  naked  back  and  shoulders  of  little  Clem,  who 
drooped  under  it  with  bowed  knees,  helpless,  his  arms 
extended,  his  wrists  bound  together  and  lashed  to 
the  bed-post.  The  child  made  no  sound.  The  piercing 
screams  came  not  from  him,  but  from  an  inner  room 
— Myra's  bedroom — and  from  behind  a  closed  door. 

"  You  shall  not !  "  Hester  flung  herself  forward, 
shielding  the  child  from  another  blow.     "  Oh,  what 

292 


AN    OUTBURST 

wickedness  are  you  doing!     What  horrible  wicked- 
ness !  " 

Mr.  Sam  had  raised  his  arm  again.  The  man 
indeed  seemed  to  be  transported  with  passion,  with 
sheer  hist  of  cruelty.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  had  heard 
her  enter.  His  dark  face  twitched  distortedly  in 
the  fading  light. 

"  I'll  teach  him — I'll  teach  him !  "  he  panted. 

"  You  shall  not !  "  Hester,  covering  the  child's 
limp  body,  could  not  see  his  face,  but  her  eyes  fell 
on  his  little  shirt,  ripped  from  neckband  to  flap,  and 
lying  on  the  floor  as  it  had  been  torn  from  his  body 
and  tossed  aside.  She  called  to  Susann;ih,  still  linger- 
ing doubtfully  outside  upon  the  mat,  and  pointed  to 
the  door  behind  Mr.  Sam.  Susannah  plucked  up 
courage,  stepped  across  and  turned  the  key.  An  in- 
stant later,  like  a  small  wild  beast  uncaged,  Myra 
came  springing  and  crouched  beside  her  brother, 
facing  his  tormentor  with  blazing  eyes. 

Hester,  catching  sight  of  the  housekeeper's  scissors 
which  Susannah  wore  at  her  waist,  motioned  to  her 
to  cut  the  cords  binding  Clem's  wrists.  Mr.  Sam 
made  no  effort  to  oppose  her,  but  stood  panting,  with 
one  hand  resting  on  the  dressing-table.  Susannah 
managed  indeed  to  detach  the  scissors,  but  held  them 
out  falteringly,  as  though  in  sheer  terror  declining 
all  responsibility. 

293 


SHINING   FERRY 

"  Give  them  to  me,  then." 

But  as  Susannah  lield  them  out  Myra  leapt  up 
and,  snatching  them,  dashed  upon  her  uncle.  His 
hand  still  rested  palm  downwards  on  the  dressing- 
tahle,  and  she  struck  at  it.  Undoubtedly  the  child 
would  have  stabbed  it  through — for,  strange  to  say, 
he  made  no  effort  to  fend  her  off  or  to  avoid  the 
stroke — had  not  Hester  run  in  time  to  push  her 
smartly  by  the  shoulder  in  the  very  act  of  striking. 
As  it  was  the  scissor-point  drove  into  the  tabic,  miss- 
ing him  by  a  bare  two  inches.  Then  and  then  only  he 
lifted  his  hand  and  stared  at  it  stupidly.  He  seemed 
about  to  speak,  but  turned  with  a  click  of  the  throat — 
a  queer  dry  sound,  as  though  a  sudden  thirst  parched 
him — and  walked  heavily  from  the  room.  Hester 
gazed  after  him  and  back  at  the  scissors  on  the  dress- 
ing-table. She  was  reaching  forward  to  pick  them 
up  when  a  cry  from  Susannah  bade  her  hurry.  Clem 
had  fainted,  his  legs  doubled  beneath  him,  his  head 
falling  horribly  back  from  his  upstretchcd  arms, 
which  still,  like  ropes,  held  him  fast  to  the  bed-post. 

Twenty  minutes  later  Hester  descended  the  stairs. 
Clem  was  in  bed  with  his  sister's  arms  about  him  ;  and 
Myra's  last  look  at  parting  had  been  one  of  diinib 
gratitude,  pitifully  asking  pardon  for  old  jealousies, 
old  misunderstandino-s.  At  anv  other  time  Hester 
would  have  rejoiced  over  the  winning  of  a  friend. 

294 


AN    OUTBURST 

But  the  sight  of  the  weals  on  Clem's  back  had  for 
the  moment  killed  all  feeling  in  her  but  disgust  and 
horror.  So  deep  was  her  disgust  that  the  sight  of 
Master  Calvin,  whom  she  surprised  in  the  act  of 
listening  outside  the  door,  scarcely  ruffled  it  afresh. 
So  complete  was  her  horror  that  it  left  no  room 
for  astonishment  when,  reaching  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
she  found  Mr.  Sam  himself  lingering  in  the  hall, 
apparently  awaiting  her. 

She  walked  past  him  with  set  face.  All  the 
smooth,  pietistic  phrases  of  his  letter  rang  a  chime 
in  her  brain,  to  be  retorted  upon  him  as  soon  as  he 
dared  to  speak. 

But  he  did  not  speak.  He  looked  up,  as  if  await- 
ing her ;  took  half  a  step  forward ;  then  drew  aside 
and  let  her  pass.  She  went  by  with  set  face,  not 
sparing  a  look  for  him.  In  the  open  air  she  drew 
a  long  breath. 

Above  all  things  she  desired  to  consult  with  Peter 
Benny.  In  this  there  was  nothing  surprising,  for 
everyone  in  trouble  went  to  Peter  Benny.  He  him- 
self— honest  man — had  to  admit  that  the  number  of 
confidences  which  came  his  way  were,  no  doubt, 
extraordinary.  He  explained  it  on  the  simple  ground 
that  he  wrote  letters  for  seamen  and  made  it  a  rule 
never  to  divulge  tlieir  secrets.      "  Not  that   anyone 

295 


shi:n^i¥g  ferry 

would  dream  of  it,"  he  addod ;  ''but  my  secrecy, 
happening  to  be  professional,  gets  its  credit  ad- 
vertised." 

It  appeared  that  these  professional  duties  were 
heavier  than  nsnal  to-night.  At  any  rate,  when  Hester 
reached  the  little  cottage  by  the  quayside,  it  was  to 
find  that  he  had  made  a  hasty  tea  and  departed  for 
the  office.  In  her  urgency,  after  merely  telling  Mrs. 
Benny  that  she  would  be  back  in  a  few  minutes, 
Hester  ran  down  the  court  to  the  office,  tapped  hur- 
riedly at  the  door,  and  pushed  it  open. 

Within,  with  his  back  towards  her,  erect  and 
naked  to  the  waist  under  the  rays  of  an  oil  lamp 
swinging  from  the  beam,  stood  a  young  man.  The 
light  falling  on  his  firm  shoulders  and  the  muscles 
along  his  spine  showed  the  gleaming  flesh  tattooed 
with  interwoven  patterns,  delicate  as  lace-work;  and 
in  the  midst,  reaching  from  shoulder-blade  to  shoul- 
der-blade, a  bright  blue  tree  with  a  cross  above,  and 
beneath  it,  the  figures  of  Adam  and  Eve. 

As  she  drew  back,  Mr.  Benny  on  the  far  side  of 
the  office  raised  his  eyes  from  a  table  over  which  he 
bent  to  dip  a  needle  in  a  saucer  of  Indian  ink ;  and  at 
the  same  moment  the  young  man  under  the  lamp, 
suddenly  aware  of  a  visitor,  faced  about  with  a  shy 
lauffh.    It  was  Tom  Trevarthen.    Hester,  with  a  short 

296 


AN    OUTBUEST 

cry  of  dismay,  backed  into  the  darkness,  shutting 
the  door  as  she  retreated.  When  Mr.  Benny  returned 
to  supper  he  forbore  from  alluding  to  the  incident 
until  Hester — her  trouble  still  unconfided — shook 
hands  Avith  him  for  the  night. 

"  I've  heard,"  he  said,  "  folks  laugh  at  sailors 
for  tattooing  themselves.  But  'tis  done  in  case  they're 
drowned,  that  their  bodies  may  be  known;  and,  if 
you  look  at  that,  'tis  a  sacrament  surely." 

That  night  Hester  awoke  from  a  terrifying  dream  ; 
and  still,  as  she  dreamed  again,  she  saw  a  lash  descend- 
ing on  a  child's  naked  back,  leaving  at  each  stroke 
the  mark  of  a  cross  interwoven  with  a  strange  and 
delicate  pattern ;  and  at  each  stroke  heard  a  girl's 
voice  which  screamed,  "  It  is  a  sacrament !  " 


297 


CHAPTER    XXI 

MK.    BENNY  GETS   PROMOTION 

Early  next  morning,  having  bonnd  Mr.  Benny 
to  secrecy,  slie  told  him  the  whole  story.  At  first 
his  face  merely  expressed  horror;  hut  hy  and  by  his 
forehead  lost  its  puckers.  When  she  had  done,  his 
first  comment  took  her  fairly  aback. 

"  Ay,"  said  he,  "  I'd  half  guessed  it  a'ready. 
The  poor  creature's  afflicted.  It  don't  stand  in  nat- 
ure for  a  man  to  deal  around  cruelty  as  he's  been 
doing  unless  his  brain  is  touched." 

"  Afflicted  is  he  ? "  Hester  answered  indignantly. 
"  I'm  afraid  I  keep  all  my  pity  for  those  he 
afflicts." 

"  Then  you  do  wrong,"  replied  Mr.  Benny,  with 
much  gravity.  "  That  man  w-ants  help  if  ever  a  man 
did." 

"  He  will  get  none  from  me,  then,"  she  said, 
and  flushed,  remembering  the  proposal  in  her  pocket. 
"  I  won't  endure  the  sight  of  him,  after  yesterday's 
work.  I  have  written  a  letter  resigning  my  teacher- 
ship." 

298 


MR.    BENJsTY    GETS    PROMOTION 

"  That  isn't  like  you,  somehow."  Mr.  Benny 
stood  musing. 

"  Of  course,"  she  went  on  hastily,  "  I  don't  give 
my  real  reasons.  The  letter  is  addressed  to  you 
as  Clerk,  and  you  will  have  to  read  it  to  the  Board. 
I  am  ready  to  fill  the  post  until  another  teacher  can 
be  found." 

"  It  seemed  to  me,  some  while  ago,  that  Mr.  Sam- 
uel had  a  fancy  for  you.  Maybe  I'm  wrong,  my  dear ; 
but  you  won't  mind  my  speaking  frankly.  And  if 
I'm  right,  and  he  has  begim  pestering  you,  I  can't 
blame  you  for  resigning.    The  man  isn't  safe." 

His  look  carried  interrogation  at  once  shy  and 
fatherly.  She  forced  herself  to  meet  his  eyes  and 
nod  the  answer  which  her  cheeks  already  published. 

"  It  is  hateful,"  she  murmured.  "  Yes,  he  asked 
me  to  marry  him." 

"  I  told  you  he  was  afflicted,"  said  Mr.  Benny,  still 
with  simple  seriousness;  then,  catching  a  sudden 
twinkle  in  her  eyes,  "  Eh  ?  What  did  I  say  ?  My 
dear,  I  didn't  mean  it  that  way !  " 

Mr.  Benny  hnd  judged  at  once  more  charitably 
and  more  correctly  than  Hester.  Had  she  looked  up 
yesterday  when  she  passed  Mr.  Sam  at  the  foot  of 
the  stairs,  she  might  have  guessed  the  truth  from  his 
face. 

299 


SHINING    FEERY 

The  man  was  afflicted,  and  knew  it ;  had  suddenly 
discovered  it,  and  was  afraid  of  himself — for  the 
moment,  abjectly  afraid.  All  his  life  he  had  been 
nursing  a  devil,  feeding  it  on  religion,  clothing  it  in 
self-righteousness,  so  carefully  touching  up  its  toilet 
that  it  passed  for  saint  rather  than  devil — especially 
in  his  own  eyes,  trained  as  they  were  in  self-deception. 
For  every  action,  mean  or  illiberal  or  tricky  or  down- 
right cruel,  he  had  a  justificatory  text ;  for  his  few 
defeats  a  constant  salve  in  the  thought  that  his  van- 
quishers were  carnal  men,  sons  of  Belial,  and  would 
find  themselves  in  hell  some  day.  He  was  Dives  or 
Lazarus  as  occasion  served.  If  a  plan  miscarried, 
the  Lord  was  chastening  him ;  if,  as  oftener  hap- 
pened, it  went  prosperously,  the  Lord  was  looking 
after  His  own;  but  always  the  plan  itself,  being  his 
plan,  was  certainly  righteous,  because  he  was  a  right- 
eous man.  A  good  tree  could  not  bring  forth  evil 
fruit. 

But  all  this  while  the  devil  had  been  growing  fat 
and  strong;  and  now  on  a  sudden  it  had  burst  forth 
like  a  giant,  mad,  uncontrollable,  flinging  away  dis- 
guise, a  devil  for  all  to  see.  There  was  no  text,  even 
in  Solomon,  which  could  be  stretched  to  excuse  tying 
up  a  small  blind  child  and  flogging  him  with  a 
belt.  He  had  done  a  thing  for  which  men  go  to 
prison.     Worse,  he  had  not  been  far  from  a  crime 

300 


ME.    BENNY    GETS    PROMOTION 

for  which  the  law  puts  men  to  death.  In  his  rage 
he  had  been  absolutely  blind,  each  blow  deadening 
prudence,  calling  for  another  blow.  If  Hester  Marvin 
had  not  run  in,  where  would  he  have  ended  ? 

It  happened  to  him  now  as  it  has  happened  to 
many  a  man  fed  upon  conventional  religion  and  ac- 
customed to  walk  an  aisle  in  public  and  eminent 
godliness.  In  the  moment  that  he  overbalanced  public 
approval  his  whole  edifice  cnnnbled  and  collapsed, 
leaving  him  no  stay.  He  was  down  from  his  eminence 
— down  with  the  wild  beasts ;  and  among  them  the 
worst  was  the  wild  beast  within  him. 

He  had  not  philosophy  enough  even  to  render 
account  with  himself  why  he  hated  the  small  blind 
child.  One  reason,  and  perhaps  the  chief,  was  that 
he  had  already  injured  Clem ;  another,  that  Clem 
stood  all  unconsciously  between  his  conscience  and 
his  son  Calvin.  In  his  fashion  Mr.  Sam  loved 
his  son,  doomed  to  suifer,  if  the  truth  should  ever 
be  known,  for  his  father's  bastardy.  But — to  his 
credit  perhaps — Mr.  Sam  forgot  all  excuses  in  sheer 
terror  of  himself;  terror  less  of  what  he  had  done 
than  of  what  he  might  hereafter  do. 

In  panic  of  that  devil  he  had  placed  himself  in 
Hester's  way,  hoping  against  hope  that  she  might 
help.  He  had  built  some  hopes  on  her,  and  now  in 
an   hour   or   two    all    those   hopes   were   merged    in 

301 


SHINING    FERRY 

a  desperate  appeal  to  be  saved  from  himself.  He 
almost  forgot  that  he  had  written  asking  her  to  be 
his  wife ;  he  could  think  only  that  she  might  possibly 
be  his  salvation.  But  Hester  had  passed  him  by 
without  a  glance.  After  this,  meaning  no  cruelty  at 
all,  but  merely  from  the  instinct  of  self-preservation 
(than  which  nothing  is  crueller)  he  did,  as  will  be 
seen,  the  cruellest  deed  of  his  life. 

Mr.  Benny  was  one  of  those  rare  souls  who  never 
dream  of  asking  a  favour  for  themselves,  but  can  bo 
shamelessly  importunate  on  behalf  of  a  fellow-creat- 
ure. On  receipt  of  Hester's  resignation,  which  she 
submitted  to  him  first  in  private  and  then  sent  to 
him  formally  through  the  post,  he  panted  up  the 
hill  to  seek  an  interview  with  Sir  George  Dinham. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  Sir  George ;  "  it  happens  oddly 
that  I  was  on  the  point  of  sending  for  you  for  the 
first  time;  and  yet  you  have  been  my  tenant  for 
close  upon  twenty  years,  I  believe  ?  " 

Mr.  Benny  might  have  seized  the  occasion  to 
urge  that  his  roof  leaked  and  the  quay  wall  beneath 
his  office  badly  needed  repointing.  For  years  he 
had  submissively  relieved  Sir  George  of  these  and 
other  repairs.  But  he  had  come  to  engage  Sir 
George's  interest  for  Miss  Marvin,  a  young  person 
who  had  just  thrown  up  her  position  as  schoolmistress 

302 


MR.    BENNY    GETS    PROMOTION 

across  the  water,  in  circumstances  perfectly  honour- 
able to  her.  Sir  George,  perhaps,  would  not  press  to 
know  what  those  circumstances  were ;  but  Mr.  Benny 
had  chanced  to  hear  that  the  Matron  of  the  Widows' 
Almshouses  had  earned  her  pension  and  was  resign- 
ing, and  he  ventured  to  recommend  Miss  Marvin  for 
the  post. 

"  And  that  again  is  odd,"  said  Sir  George,  "  for 
I  was  wondering  if  the  situation  would  be  agreeable 
to  her." 

Mr.  Benny  could  scarcely  believe  his  ears. 

"  But  I  think,"  pursued  Sir  George,  "  we  had 
better  take  one  thing  at  a  time ;  and  I  wish  to  get 
the  first  job  off  my  hands,  because,  strictly  speaking, 
it  is  not  my  business.  Lady  Killiow  (as  you  may 
have  heard)  requires  a  new  steward,  and  has  com- 
missioned me  to  choose  him  for  her.  I  had  thought 
of  you,  Mr.  Benny." 

"  Sir  George  !  " 

"  Why  not  ?  You  were  clerk  to  the  late  Mr.  Rose- 
wame  and  enjoyed  his  confidence,  I  believe  ?  " 

"  Sir  George — Sir  George !  "  Mr.  Benny  could 
only  repeat  with  stammering  lips.  If,  a  while  ago, 
he  could  not  believe  his  ears,  just  now  he  felt  as  if 
the  sky  were  tumbling  about  them. 

"  There,  my  friend,  go  home  and  think  it  over. 
If  you  think  well  of  the  offer,  be  at  the  ferry  at  nine 

303 


SHINING   FERRY 

o'clock  to-morrow.  I  will  meet  you  there  with  the 
dogcart,  and  we  can  talk  matters  over  on  our  way 
to  Damelioc.  From  Damelioc,  after  your  interview 
with  Lady  Killiow,  we  will  drive  straiglit  to  Bodmin ; 
for  I  think  you  may  be  able  to  guess  the  first  task 
she  will  lay  upon  you  as  her  steward." 

But  Mr.  Benny  was  too  far  bewildered. 

"  She  will  ask  you,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  to  make 
arrangements  for  bringing  home  old  Nicholas  Vro's 
body  and  burying  him  where,  as  he  would  have  said, 
he  belongs  to  lie — in  his  own  parish  churchyard. 
There  are  no  relatives  to  be  consulted  ?  " 

"  Neither  chick  nor  child,  kith  nor  kin.  Sir 
George." 

"  God  forgive  me,  I  had  come  near  saying  '  so 
much  the  better.'  Lady  Killiow  is  a  proud  woman, 
as  you  know,  and  of  a  pride  that  would  rejoice  in 
bearing  the  fullest  blame  and  making  fullest  amends. 
But  her  friends  can  only  be  glad  to  get  this  scandal 
over  and  as  quietly  as  may  be.  I  have  written  for 
the  necessary  order." 

Once  before  we  have  seen  Mr.  Benny  tempted  to 
keep  a  secret  from  his  wife.  This  time  he  would  have 
told,  but  could  not.  He  sat  down  to  tea  with  a  chok- 
ing breast  and  a  heart  so  big  within  him  that  it  left  no 
room  for  food.     He  strove  to  eat,  but  could  get  no 

304 


MR.    BENNY    GETS    PROMOTION 

morsel  past  his  lips.  At  one  moment  the  news  seemed 
to  bubble  np  within  him,  and  his  mouth  opened 
to  shout  it  aloud ;  the  next,  his  courage  failed  at 
his  owTi  vaunting  thoughts,  and  he  reached  a  hand 
down  to  the  table-leg,  to  "  touch  wood,"  as  humble 
men  do  to  avert  Nemesis  if  by  chance  they  have  let 
slip  a  boastful  word.  Once  he  laughed  outright, 
wildly,  at  nothing  whatever. 

Nuncey  set  do\^Ti  the  teapot  and  eyed  her  parent 
with  a  puzzled  frown.  That  frown  had  sat  too  often 
on  her  cheerful  face  during  the  past  three  months. 
In  truth,  Mr.  Benny  as  a  regrater  fell  disastrously 
short  of  success,  being  prone  to  sell  at  monstrous  over- 
weights, which  ate  up  the  profits.  When  Nuncey  at 
length  forbade  him  to  touch  the  scales,  he  gave  away 
apples  to  every  child  that  chose  to  edge  around  the 
tail  of  the  cart. 

"  There's  something  wrong  with  father  to-night," 
she  said.  "  He's  like  a  thing  hurried-in-mind. 
\Miat's  up  with  'ee,  my  dear  ? — is  it  verses  ?  "  She 
paused  with  a  sudden  dark  suspicion.  "  I  see'd  Will- 
iam Badgery  walkin'  after  you  down  the  street. 
Don't  tell  me  you've  let  'en  persuade  you  into  buying 
that  lot  of  eggs  he  was  preachin'  up  for  fresh  ?  for, 
if  you  have,  I  get  no  shoes  this  Christmas — that's 
all.  Fresh  ?  Ile've  been  salting  them  down  these 
three  months,  against  the  Christmas  prices,  and  no 

305 


SHINING    FERKY 

size  in  'cm  to  start  with.  I  wouldn't  sell  'em  for 
sixpence  the  dozen." 

"  Shoes  ?  "  Good  Lord,  what  a  question  these 
boots  and  shoes  had  been  for  all  these  years !  Never 
a  Saturday  came  round  (it  seemed  to  him)  Imt  one 
or  other  of  the  family  wanted  soloing  or  heeling. 
And  henceforth  they  could  all  have  shoes  to  their 
heart's  content — and  frocks — and  new  suits — and 
meat  on  the  table  without  stint — 

He  set  down  his  cup  and  rose  hurriedly.  In  the 
act  of  pushing  back  his  chair  he  met  his  wife's  eyes. 
They  were  watching  him  with  anxious  concern — not 
wath  apparent  love ;  but  he  alone  knew  what  love  lay 
behind  that  look  which  once  or  twice  of  late  he 
had  surprised  in  them.  His  own  filled  with  sudden 
tears.  No,  he  could  not  tell  her  now.  To-night,  per- 
haps, when  he  and  she  were  alone,  he  would  tell  her, 
as  so  often  he  had  told  his  worries  and  listened  to 
hers.  He  dashed  his  frayed  cuff  across  his  eyes 
and  fairly  bolted  from  the  room. 

"  It's  about  Nicky  Vro  that  he's  troublin',"  said 
Mrs.  Benny.  "  Terrible  -soft-hearted  he  is ;  but  you 
ought  to  know  your  father  better  by  this  time  than 
to  upset  'en  so." 

An  hour  later  word  came  to  Hester — it  was  Shake 
who  brought  it — that  Mr.  Benny  would  be  glad  to 

306 


MR.    BENNY    GETS    PROMOTION 

see  her  in  the  office.  She  obeyed  at  once,  albeit  with 
some  trepidation  when  she  came  to  mount  the  steps 
and  tap  at  the  door.  She  had  learnt,  however,  from 
Nuneey  that  certain  nights  were  set  aside  for  tattoo- 
ing.    Doubtless  this  would  not  be  one  of  them. 

Four  seamen  sat  within  by  the  stove,  and  under 
the  light  of  the  swinging  lamp,  smoking,  patiently 
awaiting  their  turn.  In  the  fog  of  tobacco  smoke, 
which  almost  took  Hester's  breath  away,  they  rose 
politely  and  saluted  her.  Big,  shy  boys  they  seemed 
to  her,  with  the  whites  of  their  eyes  extraordinarily 
clear  against  their  swarthy  complexions.  Somehow 
she  felt  at  home  with  them  instantly,  and  no  more 
afraid  than  if  they  had  been  children  in  her  school. 

One  of  them  called  Mr.  Benny  from  the  tiny 
inner  office,  or  cupboard,  where  he  conducted  his  con- 
fidential business,  and  the  little  man  came  running 
out  in  a  flurry  with  one  hand  grasping  a  handker- 
chief and  the  other  nervously  thrust  in  his  dis- 
hevelled hair. 

"You  will  forgive  me,  my  dear,  for  sending? 
The  truth  is,  I  am  at  my  wits'  end  to-night  and  cannot 
concentrate  myself.  I  liavo  lioard  news  to-dav — no, 
nothing  to  distress  me — (ui  the  contrary  '' —  He  gazed 
round  helplessly.  "  It  lins  upset  me,  though.  I  was 
wondering  if  you  will  be  very  kind  and  help  me?" 

"  Help  you  ?  "  echoed  Hester.     "  Oh,  Mr.  Benny, 

307 


SHINING    FERRY 

you  surely  don't  ask  me  to  write  your  letters  for 
you!" 

"  Not  if  you  would  find  it  distasteful,  my  dear." 

"  But  I  don't  know ;  I  assure  you  I  haven't  an 
idea  how  to  do  it !  " 

"  You  would  find  it  come  easy,  for  that  matter." 
Mr.  Benny  drew  a  quill  pen  from  behind  his  right 
ear,  eyed  its  point  dejectedly  for  a  moment,  and  re- 
placed it.  "  But,  of  course,  if  you  feel  like  that, 
we'll  say  no  more  about  it,  and  I'm  sorry  to  have 
troubled  you." 

"  If  it's  merely  writing  down  from  dictation  " — 

"  You  will  find  it  a  little  more  than  that,^^  Mr. 
Benny  admitted. 

Hester  looked  around  on  the  faces  of  the  seamen. 
They  said  nothing;  they  even  watched  her  with 
sympathy,  as  though,  while  dumbly  backing  Mr. 
Benny's  petition,  they  felt  him  to  be  asking  too 
much ;  yet  she  divined  that  they  were  disappointed. 

"  I  will  try,"  she  said  with  sudden  resolve,  and 
their  approving  murmur  at  once  rewarded  her. 
"Only  you  must  be  patient  and  forgive  my  mistakes." 

"  That's  a  very  good  lass,"  said  one  of  them  aloud, 
as  Mr.  Benny  shook  her  by  the  hand  and  led  her 
triumphantly  to  the  little  inner  office.  Hester  heard 
the  words,  and  in  spite  of  nervousness  was  glad  that 
she  had  chosen  to  be  brave. 

308 


MR.    BEXXY    GETS    PROMOTION 

The  inner  office  contained  a  desk,  a  stool,  and  a 
deal  chair.  These,  with  a  swinging  lamp,  a  shelf  of 
books,  and  a  Band  of  Hope  Almanack,  completed  its 
furniture.  Indeed,  it  had  room  for  no  more,  and 
its  narrow  dimensions  were  dwarfed  just  now  by 
an  enormous  black-bearded  seaman  seated  in  the  chair 
by  the  window,  which  stood  open  to  the  darkness. 
Although  the  month  was  December,  the  wind  blew 
softly  from  the  south-west,  and  night  had  closed  in 
with  a  fine  warm  drizzle  of  rain.  Beyond  the  window 
the  riding-lights  of  the  vessels  at  anchor  shone  across 
the  gently  heaving  tide. 

The  black-bearded  seaman  made  a  motion  to  rise, 
but  realising  that  this  would  seriously  displace  the 
furniture,  contented  himself  with  a  "  Good-evening, 
miss,"  and  dropped  back  in  his  seat. 

"  Good-evening,"  answered  Hester.  "  Mr.  Benny 
here  has  asked  me  to  take  his  place.  I  hope  you  don't 
mind  ?  " 

"  Lord  bless  you,  I  like  it." 

"  But  I  shall  make  a  poor  hand  of  it,  I'm  afraid." 

The  man  eyed  her  solemnly  for  five  or  six  seconds, 
slowly  turned  the  quid  of  tobacco  in  his  cheek,  and 
spat  out  of  window.  "  We'll  get  along  famous,"  he 
said. 

"  He  likes  the  window  open,"  explained  Mr. 
Benny,  "  because  " — 

309 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  I  see."     Hester  nodded. 

"  But  I'll  rim  and  fetch  a  cloak  for  you."  With- 
out waiting  fur  an  answer,  Mr.  Benny  hurried  from 
the  office. 

To  be  deserted  thus  was  more  than  Hester  had 
bargained  for^  and  for  a  moment  she  felt  helplessly 
dismayed.  A  sheet  of  paper,  half-covered  with  writ- 
ing, lay  on  the  desk,  and  she  put  out  a  hand  for  it. 

"  Is  this  your  letter  ?  Perhaps  you'll  allow  me 
to  read  it  and  see  how  far  you  and  Mr.  Benny  have 
gone." 

"  That's  the  way.  Only  you  mustn'  give  me  no 
credit  for  it :  I  sits  and  looks  on.  '  Never  take  a  hand 
in  a  business  you  don't  know ' — that's  my  motto." 

Hester  wished  devoutly  that  it  had  also  been  hers. 
She  picked  up  the  paper  and  read — 

"  Dear  Wife, — This  conies  hoping  to  find  you  in 
health  as  it  leaves  me  at  present,  and  the  children  hearty. 
We  made  a  good  passage,  and  arrived  at  Troy  on  the  14th 
inst. ,  a  romantic  little  harbour  picturesquely  situated  on 
the  south  coast  of  Cornwall.  Once  a  flourishing  port, 
second  only  to  London  and  Bristol,  and  still  retaining  in 
its  ivy-clad  fort  some  vestiges  of  its  former  glories,  it  re- 
quires the  eye  of  imagination  to  sunnnon  back  the  days 
when  (as  Hals  tells  us)  it  manned  and  sent  forth  more 
than  forty  ships  to  the  siege  of  Calais,  A.D.  1347  " — 

Hester  glanced  at  her  client  dubiously. 
"  That's  all  right,  ain't  it  ?  "  he  asked. 

310 


MR.    BEITNY   GETS    PROMOTION 

"  Ye— es." 

''  Far  as  I  remember,  it  tallies  with  the  last  letter 
he  fixed  up  for  me.  Something  about '  grey  old  walls  ' 
there  was,  too." 

"  Yes,  that  comes  two  sentences  below — 

"Confronted  with  these  evidences  of  decay,  the  visitor 
instinctively  exclaims  to  himself,  '  If  these  grey  old  walls 
could  speak,  what  a  tale  might  they  not  unfold  !  '  " — 

"  So  heVe  put  that  in  again  ?  There's  what  you 
might  call  a  sameness  about  Benny,  though  he  do 
write  different  to  anybody  else." 

"  And  here  are  more  dates,  and  an  epitaph  from 
one  of  the  tombstones  in  the  churchyard !  Indeed, 
Mr.  "— 

"  Salt.     Tobias  Salt— ancZ  by  natur'." 

"  Indeed,  Mr.  Salt,  I  can't  write  a  letter  like 
this.     To  begin  with,  I  haven't  the  knowledge." 

"  The  Lord  forbid  !  " 

"  But  I  suppose  your  wife  likes  to  read  about 
these  things  ?  " 

"  She  can't  road  a  word,  bless  you.  She  gets  the 
parson  to  spell  it  out  to  her,  or  the  seamen's  mission- 
ary.    Yarmouth  our  home  is." 

"  She  likes  to  hear  about  them,  then  ?  " 

"  What  ?  Sarah  ?  Lord  love  ye,  miss,  you  should 
see  the  woman!"     Mr.   Salt  chuckled  heavily,  and 

311 


SHINING    FERRY 

wound  up  by  sending  a  squirt  of  tobacco-juice  out  into 
darkness,  "  ]\rother  of  eight  children,  she  is,  and 
makes  'em  toe  the  mark  at  school  and  Sunday  school. 
A  woman  like  that  don't  bother  about  grey  old  walls." 

"  You  are  proud  of  her,  I  see." 

"  'Ought  to  be,  I  reckon.  Why,  to-day  she  .can 
pick  up  two  three-gallon  pitchers  o'  water  and  heft  'em 
along  for  a  mile  and  more  without  turning  a  hair." 

"  And  the  children  ?     How  old  are  they  ?  " 

"  Eldest  just  turned  eleven." 

"  Why,  then  he  must  be  able  to  read  ?  " 

"  'Tisn'  a  he,  'tis  a  her.  Ay,  I  reckon  'Melia 
Jane  should  read  well  before  this." 

Hester  took  a  fresh  sheet  of  paper  and  began  to 
write.  "  Listen  to  this,  please,"  she  said  after  a 
few  sentences,  "  and  tell  me  if  it  will  do — 

"  Dear  Wife, — This  comes  hoping  to  find  you  in  health, 
as  it  leaves  me  at  present,  and  the  children  hearty.  I  am 
sending  this  from  Troy,  and  I  daresay  you  will  take  it  to 
some  friend  to  read ;  but  tell  Amelia  Jane,  with  my  love, 
that  in  future  she  shall  read  her  father's  letters  to  you. 
She  must  be  getting  a  scholar  by  this  time  ;  and  if  there's 
anything  she  can't  explain,  why  you  can  take  it  to  a  friend 
afterwards.  We  reached  this  port  last  Tuesday  (the  14th) 
after  a  good  passage — 

"  Now  tell  me  about  your  passage,  please." 
At  first  ]\rr.    Salt  could  only  tell  her  that  the 
passage  had  been  a  good  one,  as  passages  go.     But 

312 


ME.    BENNY    GETS    PROMOTION 

by  feeding  him  with  a  suggestion  or  two,  as  men  feed 
a  pump  with  a  little  water  to  make  it  work,  by  and  by 
she  found  herself  listening  to  information  in  a  flood. 
Now  and  then  she  interposed  a  question,  asking  main- 
ly about  his  wife  and  the  home  at  Yarmouth.  She 
had  picked  up  her  pen  again,  and  he,  absorbed  in  his 
confidences,  did  not  perceive  at  what  a  rate  she  was 
making  it  travel  over  the  paper. 

The  door  opened,  and  Mr.  Benny  reappeared  with 
a  shawl  on  his  arm.  He  glanced  around  nervously. 
"Mr.  Salt,  Mr.  Salt!  I  put  it  to  you,  this  isn't 
quite  fair.  A  fine  talk  I  can  hear  you're  having ;  but 
our  friends  outside  are  getting  impatient,  and  want 
to  know  when  you'll  let  Miss  Marvin  begin." 

"  All  rifiht,  boss.  I've  had  a  varn  here  that's 
worth  all  the  money.  Here's  your  shilling  for  it, 
and  the  letter  can  stand  over  till  to-morrow." 

"  But  I've  written  it !  "  Hester  exclaimed. 

"  Written  it !  "  Mr.  Salt's  jaw  dropped  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  I  don't  know  if  it  will  do.  Shall  I  read  it 
over  ?  " 

"  Well,  but  this  beats  conjuring!  "  The  reading 
ended,  Mr.  Salt  slapped  his  massive  thigh. 

"  You  have  done  very  well,  my  dear,"  said  Mr. 
Bonny;  "very  well  indecMl.  Ytm  have  caught,  as 
I  might  say,  the  note.     Now  I  myself  have  great 

313 


SUITING   FERRY 

(lifficulty  in  being  literary  and  at  the  same  time  catch- 
ing the  note." 

There  was  something  in  the  little  man's  con- 
fession— so  modest,  so  generous  withal — which  drew 
tears  to  her  eyes,  though  her  own  elation  may  have 
had  some  share  in  them. 

"  Though  there's  one  thing  she've  forgotten,"  said 
Mr.  Salt,  with  a  twinkle.  "  My  poor  Sarah  will  get 
shock  enongli  over  this  letter  as  'tis ;  hut  she'll  get 
a  worse  one  if  we  leave  out  the  money  order." 

The  order  having  been  made  out  in  form,  ready 
for  him  to  take  to  the  post  office,  Mr.  Salt  bade 
farewell.  They  could  hear  him  extolling,  on  his 
way  through  the  outer  office,  the  talent  of  the  oper- 
ator within. 

"  I  feel  like  a  dentist !  "  whispered  Hester,  turn- 
ing to  Mr.  Benny  with  a  smile.  The  little  man  was 
looking  at  her  wistfully. 

"  Shall  I  call  in  the  next  ?  "  he  asked.  "  I  am 
afraid,  my  dear,  you  are  finding  this  a  longer  job 
than  you  bargained  for." 

"  But  I  am  enjoying  it,"  she  protested.  "  That 
is,  if —  Mr.  Benny,  you  are  not  annoyed  by  his 
foolish  praises  ?  " 

"  My  dear,"  he  answered  gravely,  "  they  say  that 
all  literary  persons  are  jealous.  If  I  were  jealous 
it  would  not  be  because  Mr.  Salt  praised  you,  but  be- 

314 


MR.    BEN^Y    GETS    PROMOTION 

cause  my  own  sense  tells  me  that  you  do  better  than 
I  what  I  have  been  doing  for  twenty  years." 

"  If  you  feel  like  that,  I  won't  write  another 
letter,"  declared  Hester. 

"  That  would  be  very  foolish,  my  dear.  And 
now  I  will  tell  you  another  thing.  Suppose  that  this 
discovery  hurt  me  a  little,  yet  see  how  good  God 
is  in  keeping  back  all  these  years  until  a  moment 
when  my  heart  happens  to  be  so  full  of  good  news 
that  it  forgets  the  soreness  in  a  moment ;  and  again, 
how  wise  in  gently  correcting  and  reminding  me 
of  weakness  when  I  might  be  puffing  myself  up  and 
believing  that  all  my  good  fortune  came  of  my  own 
merit." 

"  What  is  your  good  news,  dear  Mr.  Benny  ?  " 

"  You  shall  hear  later  on  when  I  have  told  my 
wife." 

More  than  an  hour  later,  having  dismissed  her 
clients  (for  the  last  of  whom  she  had  to  compose 
a  love-letter,  the  first  she  had  written  in  her  life), 
Hester  stepped  across  to  the  cottage  to  announce  that 
her  work  was  over  and  ask  if  she  might  now  turn  down 
the  lamps  and  rake  out  the  stove. 

The  Benny s'  kitchen  at  first  glance  was  unin- 
habited ;  and  yet,  as  she  opened  the  door,  she  had 
heard  voices  within.     Dropping  her  eyes  to  a  lower 

315 


SHINING    FERRY 

level,  she  halted  on  the  threshold  and  would  have 
withdrawn  without  noise.  In  the  penund)ra  beyond 
the  circle  of  the  lamp  and  the  white  tablecloth  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Benny,  Nuncey,  and  Shake  were  kneeling 
by  their  chairs  on  the  linieash,  giving  thanks. 

While  Hester  hesitated,  the  little  man  lifted  his 
head,  and,  catching  sight  of  her,  sprang  to  his  feet. 
"  Step  ye  in,  my  dear,  and  join  with  us !  For  you, 
too,  have  news  to  hear  and  be  thankful  for." 

"  But  tell  me  your  own  good  news  and  let  me 
first  be  thankful  for  that." 

"  Do  'ee  really  feel  like  that  towards  us  ?  "  asked 
Nuncey,  rising  and  coming  forward  with  joy  and 
eager  love  in  her  eyes. 

"  I  ought  to,  surelv,  after  these  months  of  kind- 
ness." 

"  Well,  then — but  first  of  all  I  must  kiss  'ee,  you 
dear  thing ! — well,  then.  Dad's  been  offered  Damelioc 
stewardship,  and  you're  to  be  Mistress  of  the  Widows' 
Houses,  and  we're  all  going  to  be  rich  as  Creases 
for  ever  and  ever,  Amen !  " 

"  Croesus,  my  dear — besides,  we're  going  to  be 
nothing  of  the  sort,"  protested  her  father. 

Nuncey  swept  down  upon  him,  caught  him  in 
her  strong  embrace,  implanted  a  sound  kiss  on  the  top 
of  his  head,  and  held  him  at  arms'  length  with  a 
hand  on  either  shoulder. 

316 


ME.    BENNY    GETS    PKOMOTION 

"  You're  a  dear  little  well-to-do  father,  and  the 
best  in  the  world.  But  oh !  you've  come  nigh  break- 
ing my  heart  these  three  months — for  a  worse  regrater 
there  never  was,  an'  couldn'  be !  " 

"  Upon  my  word,"  said  Mr.  Benny,  glancing  over 
her  shoulder  at  Hester  with  a  twinkle,  "  I  seem  to  be 
getting  good  fortune  with  a  heap  of  chastening." 


317 


CHAPTER    XXII 


CLEM   IS    LOST   TO   MYRA 


The  post  of  "  Mistress  "  to  the  Widows'  Houses 
was  a  somewhat  singular  one.  The  hospital  itself 
had  been  founded  in  1034  by  an  ancestor  of  Sir 
George  Dinham's,  and  dedicated  to  St.  Peter,  as  a 
retreat  for  eleven  poor  women,  widows  of  husbands 
drowned  at  sea.  From  a  narrow  cobbled  lane,  bcliiiid 
the  parish  church  and  in  the  shadow  of  its  tower, 
you  passed  into  a  quadrangle,  two  sides  of  which 
were  formed  by  the  lodgings,  twelve  in  number  (the 
twelfth  occupied  by  the  caretaker,  or  Mistress),  the 
other  two  by  the  wash-house  and  store-buildings. 
In  the  centre  of  this  courtyard  stood  a  leaden  punij), 
approached  by  four  pebbled  paths  between  radiating 
beds  of  flowers — Provence  roses.  Madonna  lilies,  and 
old  perennials  and  biennials  such  as  honesty,  sweet- 
william,  snapdragon,  the  pink  and  white  everlasting 
pea,  with  bushes  of  fuchsia,  southernwood,  iiiid  rose- 
mary. Along  the  first  floor  of  the  alms-buildings  ran 
a  deep  open  gallery,  or  upstairs  cloister,  where  in 
warm  weather  the  old  women  sat  and  knitted  or 
gossiped  in  the  shade. 

318 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYRA 

The  rule  restricting  admission  to  the  widows  of 
drowned  mariners  had  been  gradually  relaxed  during 
the  last  fifty  years,  and  was  now  a  dead  letter ;  aged 
spinsters  even,  such  as  Aunt  Butson,  being  received 
in  default  of  applicants  with  better  title.  Also  Sir 
George's  father,  having  once  on  a  time  been  called 
upon  to  depose  a  caretaker  for  ill-using  the  inmates, 
had  replaced  her  by  a  gentlewoman ;  and  thinking 
to  safeguard  them  in  future  by  increasing  the  dignity 
of  the  post,  had  rebuilt  and  enlarged  the  new  Mis- 
tress's lodgings,  and  increased  her  salary  by  endow- 
ment to  eighty  pounds  per  annum. 

All  this  Sir  George  explained  very  delicately  to 
Hester,  on  the  morning  of  Nicky  Vro's  funeral, 
having  called  at  the  school  to  seek  an  interview  on 
his  way  back  from  the  churchyard. 

"  But  I  am  not  a  decayed  gentlewoman,"  Hester 
objected;  "at  least,  not  yet.  I  shall  be  standing 
in  the  way  of  someone  who  really  wants  this  post, 
while  I  am  strong  and  able  to  earn  my  living.  Also 
— please  do  not  think  me  ungrateful  or  conceited — 
to  teach  is  my  calling,  and  I  take  a  pride  in  it." 

"  From  all  I  hear,  you  have  a  right  to  take  pride 
in  it.  But  may  I  say  that  these  objections  occurred  to 
me  and  that  I  have  a  scheme  for  removing  them — a 
very  ha2)py  scheme,  if  you  will  licli).  Now,  in  the 
first  place,  will  you  2)ut  the  personal  question  out  of 

319 


SHINING    FERRY 

sight  and  consider  my  scheme  on  its  merits?  And 
next,  will  you,  in  advising  me,  take  account  of  my 
ignorance  ? " 

Hester  smiled.  "  I  know/'  she  said,  "  that  kind- 
ness can  be  cunning.  I  am  going  to  be  on  my 
guard." 

"  Well,  but  listen  at  any  rate,"  he  pleaded,  with 
an  eager  stammer.  "  Won't  you  agree  with  me  that 
the  education  you  give  these  children  here  is  dread- 
fully wasteful  ?  " 

She  glanced  at  him  keenly.  "  If  you  are  taking 
the  ordinary  ratepayer's  view  " —  she  began. 

"  I  am  not  taking  the  ordinary  ratepayer's  view, 
except  to  this  extent — that  I  think  the  ratepayers'  and 
taxpayers'  money  should  be  spent  to  the  best  ad- 
vantage. But  is  it? — either  here  or  in  any  parish 
in  England  ?  " 

"  No,  it  is  not." 
Will  you  tell  me  why.  Miss  Marvin  ? " 
Because,"  answered  Hester,  "  we  do  a  little 
good  and  then  refuse  to  follow  it  up.  If  we  were 
to  take  a  child  and  say,  ^  You  shall  be  a  farm 
labourer,'  or  '  You  shall  be  a  domestic  servant,  and 
in  due  time  marry  a  labourer  and  rear  his  family ; ' 
and  if,  content  with  this,  we  were  to  teach  these  chil- 
dren just  enough  for  their  fate — the  boy  to  plough 
and  work   a   threshing  machine   and   touch   his   cnj) 

320 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYKA 

to  his  betters,  the  girl  to  cook  and  sew  and  keep  house 
on  sixteen  shillings  a  week — why,  then  there  might 
be  something  to  say  for  us.  We  have  not  the  heart 
to  do  this,  and  yet  in  effect  we  do  more  cruelly. 
We  are  not  tyrants  enough  to  take  a  child  of  eight 
and  label  him  for  life :  we  start  him  on  a  kind  of 
education  which  seems  to  offer  him  a  chance ;  and 
then,  just  as  the  prospect  should  be  opening,  we  sud- 
denly lose  interest  in  him,  wash  our  hands  of  him, 
turn  him  adrift.  Some  few — a  very  few — have  the 
grit  to  push  on,  unhelped  by  us,  and  grasp  their  op- 
portunity. But  for  one  of  these  a  thousand  and 
more  fall  back  on  their  fate,  and  of  our  teaching 
the  one  thing  they  keep  is  discontent.  We  have  built 
a  porch,  to  nowhere.  We  invest  millions;  and  just 
as  our  investment  begins  to  repay  us  splendidly,  we 
sell  out,  share  by  share.  That  is  why  I  think  some- 
times. Sir  George,  in  my  bitterness,  that  education 
in  England  must  be  the  most  wasteful  thing  in  the 
world." 

"  If,  in  this  corner  of  England,  someone  were  to 
set  himself  to  fight  this  waste,  would  you  help?  " 
"  As  Mistress  of  the  Widows'  Houses  ?  " 
Sir  George  laughed.  "  As  Mistress  of  the 
Widows'  Houses — and  of  a  school  attached.  I  am 
thinking  of  a  Charterhouse  or  a  Christ's  Hospital  in 
a  small  way ;  a  foundation,  that  is,  to  include  the 

321 


SHINING   FEKEY 

old  charity  and  a  new  and  efficient  school;  modern 
education  worked  on  lines  of  the  old  collegiate  mediie- 
val  systems — eh,  Miss  Marvin  ?  To  me,  a  high  Tory, 
those  old  foundations  are  still  our  best  models." 

"  Three  or  four  of  them  have  survived,"  said 
Hester  gravely,  and  with  as  little  of  irony  as  she 
could  contrive.  "  Forgive  me,  Sir  George — once  more 
I  am  going  to  speak  ungratefully — but  though  neg- 
lect be  our  chief  curse  just  now,  a  worse  may  follow 
when  rich  folks  wake  up  and  endow  education  in  a 
hurry." 

"  You  condemn  me  offhand  for  a  faddist  ?  " 
"  If  you  would  only  see  that  these  things  need 
an  apprenticeship!  Take  this  very  combination  of 
school  and  hospital.  Three  or  four  have  survived,  and 
are  lodged  in  picturesque  buildings,  where  they  keep 
picturesque  old  customs,  and  seem  to  you  very  noble 
and  venerable.  So  indeed  they  are.  But  what  of  the 
hundreds  that  have  perished  ?  And  of  these  sur- 
vivors can  you  tell  me  one  in  which  either  the  school 
or  the  almshouse  has  not  gone  to  the  Avail  ?  The 
school,  we  will  say,  grows  into  an  expensive  one  for 
the  sons  of  rich  men ;  the  almshouse  dwindles  from 
a  college  for  poor  gentlemen  down  to  a  home  into 
which  wealthy  men  job  their  retired  servants.  I 
grant  you  that  our  modern  attempts  to  combine  alms- 
giving with  teaching  are  not  much  better  as  a  rule — 

322 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYKA 

are,  perhaps,  even  a  little  worse.  If  you  have  ever 
walked  through  one  of  our  public  orphanages,  for 
instance  " — 

Sir  George's  face  fell.  "  I  have  never  visited 
one.  Miss  Marvin,  and  I  subscribe  perhaps  to  half 
a  dozen — out  of  sheer  laziness,  and  because  to  sub- 
scribe comes  easier  than  to  say  '  No.'  Yes ;  I  am  an 
incurable  amateur,  and  you  are  right,  no  doubt,  in 
laughing  at  my  scheme  and  refusing  to  look  at  it." 

"  But  I  don't.  Sir  George.  I  even  think  it  may 
succeed,  as  it  deserves,  and  reward  your  kindness. 
Yes,  and  I  have  been  arguing  against  myself  as 
much  as  against  you,  to  warn  myself  against  hoping 
too  much.     For  there  must  be  disappointments." 

"  What  disappointments  ?  " 

"  Well,  to  begin  with,  you  rich  folks  are  im- 
patient; you  expect  your  money  to  buy  success  at 
once  and  of  itself.     And  then  you  expect  gratitude." 

"  I  do  not,"  Sir  George  asserted  stoutly. 

"  At  least,"  said  Hester,  "  it  is  only  too  plain 
that  you  are  not  getting  it."  She  dropped  him  a 
small  deprecatory  curtsey  and  laughed.  ''And  yet 
I  am  grateful." 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  gravely ;  "  I  understand. 
But  since  you  do  not  quite  despise  my  scheme,  will 
you  come  and  discuss  it  with  me,  believing  only  that 
I  am  in  earnest  ?  " 

323 


SHINING    FERRY 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Hester  should  call  on 
him  next  evening  and  go  through  the  plans  he  had 
been  preparing  for  a  week  past.  That  such  an  inter- 
view defied  convention  scarcely  crossed  her  mind  or 
his,  Sir  George  being  one  of  those  men  who  can 
neglect  convention  because  their  essential  honour 
stands  above  question.  lie  received  her  in  his  library, 
and  for  an  hour  they  talked  as  might  two  men  of 
business  in  friendly  committee  for  some  public  good. 

"  By  the  way,"  said  he,  glancing  up  from  his 
papers,  "  you  were  talking  yesterday  of  public 
orphanages.  Have  you  heard  that  your  little  friend 
Clem — the  blind  child — has  been  packed  off  to  one  ?  " 

"  To  an  orphanage  ?  "  Hester  echoed.  "  The  chil- 
dren were  not  at  school  to-day,  but  I  had  not  heard 
a  sound  of  this." 

"It  is  true;  for  I  happened  to  call  in  at  the 
station  this  morning,  and  there  on  the  platform  I 
met  Rosewarne  with  the  child.  The  man  was  taking 
his  ticket  to  Paddington — a  single  ticket  half-fare ; 
and  overhearing  this  as  we  stood  together  by  the 
booking-office,  I  made  bold  to  ask  him  a  few  questions. 
The  child  was  to  travel  alone,  in  charge  of  the  guard ; 
to  be  met  at  the  journey's  end,  I  suppose,  by  an 
official,  and  taken  out  to  the  orphanage — I  forget  its 
name — an  institution  for  the  blind  somewhere  out  in 
the  south-eastern  suburbs." 

324 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYEA 

"  Poor  Mjra !  " 

"  '  Poor  Clem !  '  I  should  rather  say.  He  was 
not  crying  over  it,  but  he  looked  pretty  forlorn  and 
white,  and  his  blindness  made  it  pitiable.  I  call  it 
brutal;  the  man  at  least  might  have  travelled  up  for 
company.    A  journey  of  three  hundred  miles !  " 

Nevertheless,  Hester  chiefly  pitied  Myra.  As  for 
Clem,  the  news  relieved  her  mind  in  part ;  since  after 
witnessing  Mr.  Sam's  outburst,  she  had  more  than 
once  shivered  at  the  thought  of  child  and  uncle  con- 
tinuing to  live  under  one  roof. 

Poor  Myra  had  spent  the  day  pacing  up  and 
down  her  room  like  a  caged  beast.  The  fate  decreed 
and  overhanging  Clem  had  been  concealed  from  her. 
Had  it  been  less  incredible,  instinct  surely  would  have 
wakened  her  suspicions  before  the  last  moment.  At 
the  last  moment  Susannah,  having  to  dress  the  child 
for  his  journey,  met  inquiries  M'itli  the  half-hearted 
lie  that  he  was  bound  on  a  trip  to  Plymouth  with 
his  uncle,  to  meet  Aunt  Hannah,  and  return  after 
a  day  or  two  in  the  Virtuous  Lady.  Susannah — weak 
soul — had  furthered  the  conspiracy  because  she  too 
had  begun  to  fear  for  Clem,  iiiid  wished  him  well 
clear  of  his  uncle's  roof.  She  acted  "  for  tli(>  best," 
but  broke  down  in  the  :icl  of  tearing  the  children 
asunder,  and  told  her  lie  shamefacedly.     The  result 

325 


SHINING   FERRY 

was  that  Mr.  Sam,  hearing  Myra's  screams  over- 
head as  lie  paced  the  hall,  had  rushed  upstairs, 
caught  her  Ly  both  wrists  as  she  clung  to  her  brother, 
forced  her  into  her  own  bedroom,  and  turned  and 
pocketed  the  key. 

Four  times  since,  in  that  interminable  day  of 
anguish,  Susannah  had  come  pleading  and  whimper- 
ing to  the  door  with  food.  Mr.  Sam,  on  returning 
from  the  station,  had  given  her  the  key  with  in- 
structions to  release  the  girl  on  a  promise  of  good 
behaviour. 

"  Be  sensible,  Miss  Mvra — now,  do !  'Tis  to  a 
home  he's  gone,  where  he'll  be  looked  after  and  taught 
and  tended,  and  you'll  see  him  every  holidays.  A 
fine  building,  sure  'nough !  Look,  I've  brought  you 
a  picture  of  it !  " 

Susannah,  defying  instructions,  had  unlocked  and 
opened  the  door.  Myra  snatched  the  paper  from 
her — it  was,  in  fact,  a  prospectus  of  the  institution — 
crumpled  it  up  and  thrust  it  in  Iicr  ]X)cket.  With 
that,  the  last  gust  of  her  passion  seemed  to  spend 
itself.  She  turned,  and  walking  straight  to  the  win- 
dow-seat, coiled  herself  among  the  cushions  with  face 
averted  and  chin  upcm  hand.  To  Susannah  the 
traitress  she  deigncil  no  woi'd. 

Thrice  again  Susannah  came  pleading,  eacli  lime 
with  a  tray  and  something  to  tempt  Myra's  appetite. 

326 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYKA 

Myra  did  not  turn  her  head.  Departing  for  the 
fourth  time,  Susannah  left  the  door  ajar.  The  siege, 
then,  was  raised,  the  imprisonment  over.  Myra 
listened  to  her  footsteps  descending  the  stairs,  walked 
to  the  door,  shifted  the  key  from  the  outer  to  the 
inner  keyhole,  and  locked  herself  in.  By  this  time 
the  wintry  dusk  had  begun  to  fall.  Resuming  her 
seat  by  the  window,  she  fell  to  watching  the  courtyard 
again,  her  body  motionless,  her  small  brain  working. 

Dusk  had  deepened  to  darkness  in  the  courtyard 
when  she  heard  a  footfall  she  recognised.  It  was 
Archelaus  Libby's,  on  his  way  home  from  school  to 
his  loft,  to  deposit  his  books  there  and  wash  before 
seeking  his  tea  in  the  kitchen. 

Myra  straightened  her  body,  and  opened  the  win- 
dow softly. 

"  Archelaus !  "  she  called  as  loudly  as  she  dared. 

"  Miss  Myra  ?  "    The  footsteps  halted. 

"  Hush,  Archelaus,  and  come  nearer.  I  want  you 
to  do  something  for  me." 

"  Yes,  Miss  Myra." 

"  It  may  get  you  into  trouble.  I  want  you  to 
fetch  the  short  ladder  from  under  the  linhay,  and  fix 
it  against  the  window  here,  without  making  a  noise." 

For  a  moment  he  made  no  answer.  But  he  had 
understood;  for  she  heard  him  walking  away  towards 
the  linhay,  and  by  and  liy  ho  returned  panting,  and 

327 


SHINING    FERTIY 

sloped  the  ladder  against  the  sill  as  she  bade  him.  By 
this  time  Myra  had  found  a  plateful  of  biscuits,  and 
cranuiicd  her  pocket  full,  and  Avas  ready  to  descend. 

"  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  "  asked  Arclie- 
laus,  as  she  clambered  down  to  him. 

"  They  have  stolen  away  Clem,  and  this  morning 
they  locked  me  in.  Now  take  the  ladder  back  and 
hang  it  in  its  place,  and  I  will  thank  you  for  ever 
and  ever." 

"  But  I  don't  understand !  "  protested  Archelaus. 
"  Stolen  away  Master  Clem  %  Who  has  stolen  him  ? 
And  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

''  I  am  going  to  find  him — that's  all,"  said  Myra, 
and  ran  off  into  the  darkness. 

She  could  reckon  on  two  friends  in  the  world — 
Mr.  Benny  and  Tom  Trevarthen.  Aunt  Hannah  was 
far  away,  and  Miss  Marvin  (though  now  forgiven, 
and  indeed  worshipped  for  having  interfered  to  pro- 
tect Clem  from  his  flogging)  could  not  be  counted 
on  for  effective  help. 

Tom  Trevarthen  and  Mr.  Benny — it  was  on  Tom 
that  she  pinned  her  hope;  for  Tom  (she  had  heard) 
was  shipped  on  board  the  One-and-AU  schooner;  and 
the  One-and-AU  was  ready  to  sail  for  London ;  and 
somewhere  near  London — so  the  paper  in  her  pocket 
had  told  her — lay  the  dreadful  place  in  which  Clem 
was  hidden.     She  could  find  the  vessel ;  the  One-and- 

328 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYRA 

All  was  moored — or  had  been  moored  last  night — at 
the  buoy  under  the  hill,  ready  for  sea.  But  to  find 
the  vessel  and  to  find  Tom  Trevarthen  were  two  very 
different  things.  To  begin  with,  Tom  would  be  use- 
less unless  she  contrived  to  speak  with  him  alone ;  to 
row  straight  to  the  schooner  and  hail  her  would  spoil 
all.  Moreover,  on  the  night  before  sailing  he  would, 
most  likely,  be  enjoying  himself  ashore.  But  where  ? 
Peter  Benny  might  be  able  to  tell.  Peter  Benny  had 
a  wonderful  knack  of  knowing  the  movements  of 
every  seaman  in  the  port. 

She  ran  down  the  dark  street  to  the  alley  over 
which  poor  Nicky  Vro's  signboard  yet  glimmered  in 
the  light  of  the  oil  lamp  at  the  entrance.  The  cot- 
tage still  lacked  a  tenant,  and  it  had  been  nobody's 
business  to  take  the  board  down.  On  the  frape 
at  the  alley's  end  his  ferry-boat  lay  moored  as  he 
had  left  it.  Myra  tugged  at  the  rope  and  drew  the 
boat  in. 

As  it  drew  alongside  out  of  the  darkness  she 
leapt  on  board  and  cast  off.  The  paddles,  as  she 
laboriously  shipped  tliciii  lictween  the  thole-pins,  were 
unconscionably  heavy ;  she  knew  little  of  rowing,  and 
nothing  of  double-sculling.  But  the  tide  helped  her. 
By  pulling  now  one  paddle,  now  another,  she  worked 
the  boat  across  and  (htwn  towards  the  ladder  and  the 
quay-door  at  the  end  of  Mr.  Benny's  yard. 

829 


SHINING    FERRY 

Nearing  it,  she  found  herself  in  shick  water,  and 
the  boat  became  more  manageable,  giving  her  time 
between  the  strokes  to  glance  over  her  shoulder  and 
scan  the  dark  shadow  under  the  longshore  wall, 
where  each  garden  and  alley-way  had  its  qnay-door 
and  its  ladder  reaching  down  into  the  tide.  Now  the 
most  of  these  quay-doors  were  painted  green  or  blue, 
but  Mr.  Benny's  a  light  grey,  which  in  the  darkness 
should  have  made  it  easily  discernible.  Yet  for  some 
while  she  could  not  find  it. 

Suddenly,  as  she  threaded  her  way  along,  scarcely 
using  her  paddles  now  except  to  fend  off  the  boats 
which,  lying  peaceably  at  their  moorings,  seemed  to 
crowd  around  with  intent  to  impede  her,  a  schooner's 
masts  and  spars  loomed  up  before  her  high  against 
the  inky  night.  Then  she  understood.  The  vessel — 
her  name,  the  Onc-and-AU,  in  white  letters  on  her 
forward  bulwarks,  glimmered  into  sight  as  Myra 
passed — lay  warped  alongside  the  wall,  with  her  fore- 
yard  braced  aslant  to  avoid  chafing  the  roof  of  Mr. 
Benny's  office,  and  her  mainmast  and  standing  rigging 
all  but  entirely  hiding  IVfr.  Benny's  quay-door,  the 
approach  to  which  she  completely  obstructed.  A  little 
above  her  forestay  a  small  window,  uncurtained  and 
brightly  lit,  broke  the  long  stretch  of  featureless 
black  wall  This  was  the  window  of  Mr.  Benny's 
inner  office,   and   within,   as  she   checked  her   way, 

O  O  A 

oo\) 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYKA 

catching  at  tlie  gunwale  of  one  among  the  tethered 
boats,  Myra  could  see  the  upper  half  of  a  hanging 
lamp  and  the  shadow  of  its  reflector  on  the  smoky 
ceiling. 

Mr.  Benny  would  be  seated  under  that  lamp,  no 
doubt.     But  how  could  she  reach  him  ? 

The  One-and-All  lay  head-to-stream,  and  so  deep 
in  the  water  that  the  tide  all  but  washed  her  bulwarks, 
still  grey  with  the  dust  of  china-stone  as  she  had  come 
from  her  loading.  Nowadays  no  British  ship  so 
scandalously  overladen  would  be  allowed  to  put  to 
sea ;  but  the  Plimsoll-mark  had  not  yet  been  invented 
to  save  seamen  from  their  employers. 

She  lay  so  low  that  Myra,  peering  into  the  dark- 
ness, could  almost  see  across  decks  to  the  farther  bul- 
warks; and  the  decks  were  deserted.  She  mounted 
no  riding-lamp,  and  no  glimmer  of  light  showed  from 
hatchway,  deckhouse,  or  galley. 

Minutes  passed,  and,  as  still  no  sign  of  life  ap- 
peared on  board,  Myra  grew  bolder  and  pushed  across 
for  a  nearer  view.  Yes ;  the  deck  was  deserted,  and 
only  the  deck  intervened  between  her  and  Mr.  Benny's 
quay-door,  by  the  sill  of  which  the  tide  ran  lapping 
and  sucking  at  the  crevices  of  the  wall.  She  hardened 
her  heart.  Even  if  her  footstep  gave  the  alarm 
below,  she  could  dash  across  and  through  the  doorway 
before  being  seized  or  even  detected.     She  laid  both 

331 


SHINING   FERRY 

hands  on  the  clay-diistod  bulwarks  and  hoisted  her- 
self gently.  The  boat — she  had  done  with  it — slipped 
away  noiselessly  from  under  her  and  away  into  dark- 
ness. 

She  had  meant  to  clear  the  ship  with  a  rush; 
but  as  her  feet  touched  the  deck  her  courage  failed 
her,  and  she  tiptoed  forward  stealthily,  gaining  the 
shadow  of  the  deckhouse  and  pausing  there. 

And  there,  in  the  act  of  crouching  to  spring  across 
the  few  remaining  yards,  she  drew  back,  crouching 
lower  yet;  for,  noiseless  as  she,  the  dark  form  of  a 
mail  had  stepped  forward  and  framed  itself  in  the 
grey  glimmering  doorway. 

For  an  instant  she  made  sure  that  he  was  about 
to  step  on  board.  P>ut  nuiny  seconds  passed,  and  still 
he  waited  there — as  it  seemed  to  her,  in  the  attitude 
of  a  man  listening;  though  to  what  he  listened  she 
could  not  guess.  She  herself  heard  no  sound  but 
the  lapping  of  the  tide. 

By  and  by,  gripping  the  ladder-rail  and  setting 
one  foot  against  the  One-and- All's  bulwarks  to  steady 
himself,  the  man  leaned  outboard  and  sideways  until 
a  faint  edge  of  light  from  the  office  window  fell  on 
his  upturned  face. 

It  was  the  face  of  her  uncle. 

Fascinated  by  terror,  following  his  gaze — by  in- 

332 


CLEM    IS    LOST    TO    MYKA 

stinct  seeking  for  help,  if  any  might  be  found — Myra 
lifted  her  face  to  the  window.  That  too  was  darkened 
for  the  instant  by  a  man's  form ;  and  as  he  crossed 
the  room  to  the  chair  beside  the  desk,  she  recognised 
Tom  Trevarthen. 


333 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

Mr.  Salt  must  have  been  preaching  Hester's 
talent  at  laru'i^  aiiidng  seamen  of  tlic  port,  for  Avheii 
she  retni'ned  from  lier  interview  with  Sir  (Jleorge 
Mr.  Benny  met  her  at  the  kitchen  door  with  news 
that  no  less  than  six  sailors  awaited  her  in  the  office, 
and  that  two  or  three  had  been  patiently  expecting 
her  for  an  hour  at  least. 

"  'Tis  a  great  tax  on  yon,  my  dear,  and  I  tried 
to  reason  wi'  them ;  but  they  wouldn't  take  '  Xo  '  for 
an  answer.  What's  more,  when  I  retire  from  the 
business  I  shan't  be  honestly  able  to  sell  you  the  good- 
will of  it,  for  they  won't  have  my  services  at  any 
price." 

Hester  laughed.  "  You  won't  even  get  me  to 
bid,"  she  assured  him.  "  We  shall  soon  be  too  busy 
for  letter-writing,  and  must  close  the  office ;  but  to- 
night I  suppose  we  cannot  disappoint  them." 

So,  with  a  sigh  of  resignation  and  an  envious 
glance  at  the  cosy  fire,  she  turned  and  stepped  briskly 

334 


HESTEK  WHITES  A  LOVE-LETTER 

down  the  courtyard  to  the  office.  There,  as  Mr.  Benny- 
had  promised,  she  found  six  expectant  mariners,  and 
for  an  hour  %Yrote  busily,  rapidly.  Either  she  was 
growing  cleverer  at  the  business,  or  her  talk  with 
Sir  George  had  keyed  her  to  this  happy  pitch.  She 
felt — it  happens  sometimes,  if  rarely,  to  most  of  us — 
in  tune  with  all  the  world ;  and  in  those  illuminated 
hours  we  feel  as  if  our  fellow-creatures  could  bring  us 
no  secret  too  obscure  for  our  understandins;,  no  trouble 
hopeless  of  our  help.  "  The  light  of  the  body  is 
the  eye;  if,  therefore,  thine  eye  be  single,  thy  whole 
body  shall  be  full  of  light."  Hester  found  herself 
divining  without  effort  what  her  clients  wished  her 
to  write,  and  as  easily  translating  the  inarticidate 
message  into  words.  It  was  superfluous  for  them 
to  thank  her  as  they  did ;  her  own  inner  voice  told 
her  she  had  done  well. 

At  length  they  were  gone,  and  she  followed  them 
so  far  as  the  outer  office,  to  rake  out  the  fire  and  tidy 
up  for  the  night.  As  she  stooped  over  the  stove  she 
was  startled  by  a  noise  from  the  inner  room — a  noise 
as  of  someone  moving  the  window-sash.  But  how 
could  this  be  ?  Perhaps  the  sash-cord  had  parted, 
letting  the  pane  slip  down  with  a  run — 

It  did  not  occur  to  her,  though  startled  for  the 
moment,  to  be  afraid,  or  even  to  suspect  any  cause 
for  fear.     Her  mind  was  still  busy  with  this  practical 

335 


SHINING    FERRY 

explanation  wlien  she  opened  tlie  door  and  her  eyes 
fell  on  Tom  Trevarthcn. 

His  back  was  turned  towards  her  as  he  closed 
the  window  hv  which  he  had  inst  entered ;  but  he 
faced  about  with  a  smile,  ignoring  the  alarm  in  her 
face  and  the  hand  she  put  out  against  the  door- jamb 
for  support. 

''  Good-evenin',  miss!  You'll  excuse  my  coming 
by  the  shortest  way  " — 

"  But — but  how  did  you  come  ?  "  she  gasped. 

He  laughed.  "  Easy  enough :  I  s^wung  myself  up 
by  the  schooner's  fore-stay.  Eh  ?  Didn't  you  know 
the  One-and- All's  moored  here  just  underneath? 
Then  I  must  ha'  given  you  a  rare  fright." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hester,  slowly  getting  back  her  com- 
posure, "  you  certainly  frightened  me ;  and  I  call 
it  a  very  silly  trick." 

She  said  it  with  a  sudden  vehemence  which  sur- 
prised herself.  It  brought  the  colour  back  to  her 
face,  too.     The  young  sailor  stared  at  her. 

"  Well,"  he  said  admiringly,  "  you  have  a  tem- 
per !  But  there's  times  when  you  make  mistakes,  I 
reckon." 

She  supposed  him  to  allude  to  her  unhappy  in- 
trusion upon  the  tattooing.  Her  colour  deepened  to 
a  hot  and  lively  red,  and  between  shame  and  scorn 
she  turned  and  walked  from  him  into  the  outer  office. 

336 


HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

"  Nay,  now !  "  He  followed  her,  suppliant. 
"  Nay,  now  !  "  lie  repeated,  as  one  might  coax  a  child. 
"  Simme  I  can't  open  my  mouth  'ithout  angering  you, 
Miss  Marvin ;  an'  yet,  ignorant  as  I  be,  'tis  plain  to 
me  you  don't  mean  no  hurt." 

Now  Hester  had  meant  to  walk  straight  out  of 
the  office  and  leave  him.  It  would  be  hard  to  say 
precisely  on  what  second  thought  she  checked  herself 
and,  picking  up  the  poker,  sedulously  resumed  her 
raking-out  of  the  stove.  Partly,  no  doubt,  she  re- 
pented of  having  taken  offence  when  he  meant  none. 
He  had  been  innocent,  and  her  suspicion  of  him  re- 
coiled back  in  self-contempt.  It  was  a  relief  to  hear 
him  in  turn  accusing  her  unjustly.  It  gave  her 
fresh  ground,  on  which  she  really  could  defend 
herself. 

"  Hurt  ?  "  she  echoed  half  defiantly,  stooping  and 
raking  at  the  cinders. 

"  Why,  of  course  you  hurt,"  he  insisted.  "  'Tis 
so  queer  to  me  you  can't  see  it.  Just  reckon  up  all 
the  harm  this  Rosewarne  have  a-done  and  is  doing: 
Mother  Butson's  school  closed,  and  the  poor  soul  bed- 
ridden with  rheumatics,  all  through  being  forced  to 
seek  field-work,  at  her  time  o'  life  and  in  this  autumn's 
weather!  My  old  mother  driven  into  a  charity- 
house.  Nicky  Vro  dead  in  Bodmin  gaol.  Where 
was  the  fair  play?     Master   Clem,   I  hear,   parted 

337 


SHINING   FERRY 

from  his  sister  iiiiJ  packed  off  this  very  day  to  a 
home  in  London — hicky  if  'tis  better  'n  a  gaol " — 

"  Do  you  accuse  me  of  all  these  wrongs  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't.  But  in  most  of  'em  you've  been 
mixed  up,  and  in  all  of  'em  you  might  have  used 
power  over  the  man.  Where  have  you  put  in  an  oar 
except  to  make  matters  worse  ?  " 

It  was  on  her  lips  to  tell  him  that  she  had  resigned 
the  teachership  ;  but  she  forebore. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  answered  quietly,  "  that  half- 
truths  may  be  worse  than  lies,  and  a  charge  which 
is  half-true  the  most  cruelly  unjust  ?  We  will  agree 
that  I  have  done  more  harm  here  than  good.  But 
do  you  accuse  me  of  doing  it  wilfully,  selfishly  ?  " 

"  That's  where  I  can't  make  you  out,"  he  said. 
"  I  can't  even  make  out  your  doing  wrong  at  all. 
Thinks  I  sometimes,  '  'Tis  all  a  mistake.  Go,  look  at 
her  face,  all  made  for  goodness  if  ever  a  face  was ; 
try  her  once  more,  an'  you'll  be  sorry  for  thinkin' 
ill  of  her.'  That's  the  way  of  it.  But  then  I  come 
and  find  you  mixed  \\\)  in  this  miserable  business, 
and  all  that's  kind  in  you  seems  to  harden,  and  all 
that's  straight  to  run  crooked.  There's  times  I  think 
you  couldn't  do  wrong  if  you  weren't  so  sure  of  doing 
right  ;  and  there's  times,  when  I  hear  of  your  being 
kind  to  tlie  school-ehildi'cn,  I  think  it  must  be  some 
curst  ill-luck  of  my  own  that  brings  us  always 
ath'art-hawse."  ggg 


HESTER  WRITES  A  LOVE-LETTER 

Beneath  the  lamplight  his  eyes  searched  hers 
appealingly,  as  a  child's  might ;  yet  Hester  wondered 
rather  at  the  note  of  manliness  in  his  voice — a  new 
note  to  her,  but  an  assured  one.  Whatever  the  cause, 
Tom  Trevarthen  was  a  lad  no  longer. 

"  Why  should  you  suppose,"  she  asked,  "  that  I 
have  power  over  Mr.  Rosewarne  ? " 

"  Haven't  you  ?  " 

The  simple  question  confounded  her,  and  she 
blushed  again,  as  one  detected  in  an  untruth.  It 
was  as  Tom  said ;  some  perverse  fate  impelled  her 
at  every  turn  to  show  at  her  worst  before  him. 

"  Good  Lord  !  "  he  said  slowly,  watching  her  face. 
"  You  don't  tell  me  you're  going  to  marry  him !  " 

She  should  have  obeyed  her  first  impulse  and  said 
"  Ko  "  hotly.  The  word  was  on  her  lips  when  a  second 
wave  of  indig^^ation  swelled  within  her  and  swept 
over  the  first,  drowning  it,  and,  with  it,  her  speech. 
What  right  had  he  to  question  her,  or  what  concern 
with  her  affairs  ?  She  threw  back  her  head  proudly, 
to  look  him  in  the  face  and  ask  him  this.  But  he 
had  turned  from  her. 

His  disgust  angered  her,  and  once  more  she 
changed  her  impulse  for  the  worse. 

"  It  seems,"  said  she  contemptuously,  "  that  you 
reserve  the  right  of  making  terms  with  Mr.  Rose- 


warne." 


339 


SIIINIXG    FERRY 

He  turned  at  the  door  of  the  inner  office  and  re- 
garded lier  for  a  moment  with  a  dark  frown. 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  "  His  voice  be- 
trayed the  strain  on  his  self-command. 

"  Mr.  Rosewarne  owns  the  One-and-AU,  docs  he 
not  ?  If,  after  what  has  happened,  you  accci)t  his 
wages,  you  might  well  be  a  little  less  censorious  of 
other  folks'  conduct." 

If  the  shaft  hit,  he  made  no  sign  for  the  moment. 
"  I  reckon,"  he  answered,  with  queer  deliberate- 
ness,  "  your  knowledge  of  ships  and  shipowners  don't 
amount  to  much,  else  you  wouldn't  talk  of  Rosewarne's 
d(jing  me  a  favour."  He  paused  and  laughed, 
not  aloud  but  grimly.  "  The  One-and- All's  insured. 
Miss  Marvin,  and  pretty  heavily  over  her  value.  I'd 
take  it  as  a  kindness  if  you  found  someone  fool 
enough  to  insure  me  for  a  trip  in  her." 

"  I  don't  understand." 

"  No,  I  reckon  you  don't.  They  finished  loading 
her  last  night,  and  we  moored  her  out  in  the  channel, 
ready  for  the  tug  this  morning.  Before  midnight 
she  was  leaking  there  like  a  basket,  and  by  seven  this 
morning  she  was  leaking  worse  than  a  five-barred 
gate.  The  tug  had  just  time  to  pluck  us  alongside 
here,  or  she'd  have  sunk  at  her  moorings ;  and  when 
we'd  warped  her  steady  and  the  tide  left  her,  the 
water  poured  out  of  a  hole  I  could  shove  my  hand 

340 


HESTEK  WEITES  A  LOVE-LETTEE 

through — not  the  seams,  mark  joii,  though  they  leak 
bad  enough — but  a  hole  where  the  china-stone  had 
fairly  knocked  her  open;  and  the  timber  all  round 
it  as  rotten  as  cheese.  All  day,  between  tides,  they've 
been  sheathing  it  over,  and  packing  the  worst  places 
in  her  seams;  and  to-night  the  crew,  being  all  Troy 
men,  are  taking  one  more  sleep  ashore  than  they 
bargained  for.  They  want  it,  too,  after  their  spell 
at  the  pumps." 

''  Then  why  are  you  left  on  board  ?  " 

"  Mainly  because  I've  no  home  to  go  to ;  and 
somebody  must  act  night-watchman.  The  skipper 
himself  has  bustled  ashore  with  the  rest.  I  reckon 
this  morning's  work  scared  him  a  bit,  hand-in-glove 
though  he  is  with  Rosewarne ;  but  he  must  be  recov- 
ering, because  just  before  stepping  off  he  warned  me 
against  putting  up  the  riding-light.  There's  no  chance 
of  anyone  fouling  us  where  we  lie,  and  we  can  save 
two-penn'orth  of  oil." 

"  But  you  don't  tell  me  Mr.  Rosewarne  sends  his 
ships  to  sea,  knowing  them  to  be  rotten  ?  " 

He  hunched  his  shoulders.  "Maybe  he  does; 
maybe  he  don't.  It  don't  matter  to  me,  the  man's 
going  to  hell  or  not.  But  you  seem  to  think  I  take 
his  wages  as  a  favour." 

"  Then  why  do  you  take  them  at  all,  at  such 
a  risk  ?  " 

341 


SITINTNG   FERRY 

"  Because,"  he  Lurst  out,  "  you've  come  here  and 
driven  my  mother  to  an  almshouse,  and  I  must  earn 
money  to  get  her  out  of  it.  If  I'd  a-kiiown  you  was 
coming  hero  with  your  education,  I'd  have  picked 
up  some  of  it  and  been  prcj)ared  for  you.  A  mate's 
certificate  doesn't  mean  much  in  these  days.  JNIeii 
like  Rosewarne  want  a  skipper  who'll  earn  insurance- 
money  and  save  oil.  Still,  I  could  have  tried.  But, 
like  a  fool,  I  was  young  and  in  a  good  berth,  and 
let  my  chances  slip;  and  then  you  came  along  and 
spoilt  alb" 

"  Did  you  seek  me  out  to-night  to  tell  me  this  ?  " 
she  steadied  herself  to  ask. 

He  lowered  his  eyes.  "  I  want  you  to  write  a 
letter  for  me,"  he  said,  and  added,  after  a  pause, 
"  That's  wdiat  comes  of  wanting  education." 

Another  and  a  very  awkward  pause  followed. 
This  discovery  of  his  illiteracy  shocked  and  hurt  her 
inexpressibly.  She  could  not  even  say  why.  Good 
sense  warned  her  even  in  the  instant  of  disappoint- 
ment that  a  man  might  not  know  how  to  read  or 
write  and  yet  be  none  the  less  a  good  man  and 
trustworthy.  And  even  though  the  prejudice  of 
her  calling  made  her  treat  the  defect  too  seriously, 
why  in  Tom  Trevarthen  should  that  shock  her 
which  in  other  seamen  she  took  as  a  matter  of 
course  ? 

342 


HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

Yet  in  her  shame  for  him  she  could  lift  her  eyes ; 
and  he  still  kept  his  lowered  upon  the  floor. 

"  To  whom  do  you  want  me  to  write  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  It's  to  a  girl,"  he  answered  doggedly ;  and  the 
words  seemed  to  call  up  a  dark  flush  in  his  face, 
which  a  moment  before  had  been  unwontedly  pale — 
though  this  she  did  not  perceive. 

"  A  girl  ?  " 

"  That's  so ;  a  girl,  miss,  if  you  don't  mind — 
a  girl  as  it  happens  I'm  fond  of." 

"  A  love-letter  ?    Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  " 

"  If  you  don't  mind.  Miss  Marvin  ?  " 

"  Why  on  earth  should  I  mind  ?  "  she  asked,  with 
a  heat  unintelligible  to  herself  as  to  him. 

A  suspicion  crossed  her  mind  that  the  young 
woman  might  not  be  over-respectable ;  but  she  dis- 
missed it.  If  the  message  were  such  as  she  could 
indite,  she  had  no  warrant  to  inquire  further ;  and 
yet,  "  Is  it  quite  fair  to  her  ?  "  she  added. 

The  question  plainly  confused  him.  "  Fair, 
miss  ? " 

"  You  told  me  a  minute  ago  that  you  found  it 
hard  to  earn  money  for  your  mother;  and  now  it 
seems  you  think  of  marrying." 

"  No,  miss,"  said  he  simply ;  "  I  can't  think  of 
it  at  all.     And  that's  partly  what  I  want  to  tell  her." 

Hester  frowned.      "  It's  queer  you  should  como 

343 


SHINING    FERRY 

to  me,  whom  you  accuse  of  interfering  to  your  harm. 
If  I  nm  guilty  on  other  counts,  I  am  guilty  too  of 
coming  between  you  and  this  3'oung  woman." 

He  smiled  faintly.  "  And  that's  true  in  a  way," 
he  allowed  ;  "  but  you'll  see  I  don't  bear  malice.  The 
letter'll  prove  that,  if  so  be  you'll  kindly  write  it 
for  me." 

He  said  it  appealingly,  with  his  hand  on  the 
door-handle.  She  bent  her  head  in  consent.  Flinff- 
ing  the  door  open,  he  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass. 

It  was  a  moment  later  as  he  crossed  over  to  the 
client's  chair  that  Myra  caught  sight  of  him  from  the 
schooner's  deck.  The  child  cowered  back  into  the 
shadow  of  the  deck-house,  her  eyes  intent  again  on 
the  listener  leaning  out  from  the  quay-door.  He 
could  not  even  see  what  she  had  seen  ;  and  if  Tom  was 
in  talk  with  anyone  inside  her  own  ears  caught  no 
sound  of  it.  Nevertheless  her  uncle's  attitude  left  no 
room  to  doubt  that  he  was  playing  the  spy,  and  trying, 
at  least,  to  listeu. 

"  What  name  ?  "  asked  Hester,  dipping  her  pen. 

"  What  name  ?  Eh,  to  be  sure  "—  Tom  Tre- 
varthen  hesitated  for  a  moment.  "  Put  down  Har- 
riet Sands."  She  glanced  up,  and  he  nodded.  "  Yes, 
that'll  do — Harriet  Sands,  of  Runcorn." 

344 


HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

"  She  must  have  some  nearer  address  than  that. 
Runcorn  is  a  hirge  town,  is  it  not  ?  " 

He  pondered,  or  seemed  to  ponder.  "  Then  we'll 
put  down  '  Sailors'  Return  Inn,  Quay  Street,  Run- 
corn.'    That'll  find  her,  as  likely  as  anywhere." 

Hester  wrote  the  address  and  glanced  up  inquir- 
ingly ;  but  his  eyes  were  fastened  on  the  desk  where 
her  hand  rested,  and  on  the  virgin  sheet  of  note- 
paper  placed  ready  for  use. 

"  A  public-house  ?  It  wanted  only  that !  "  she 
told  herself.  Aloud  she  said,  "  '  My  dearest  Har- 
riet ' — Is  that  how  you  begin  ?  " 

He  appeared  to  consider  this  slowly.  "  I  suppose 
so,"  he  answered  at  length,  with  a  shade  of  disap- 
pointment in  his  voice. 

"  And  next,  I  suppose,  you  say,  '  This  comes  hop- 
ing to  find  you  well  as  it  leaves  me  at  present.'  " 

"  Don't  'ee — don't  'ee,  co !  "  he  implored  her  al- 
most with  a  cry  of  pain  ;  and  then,  scarcely  giving  her 
time  to  be  ashamed  of  her  levity,  he  broke  out,  "  They 
tell  me  you  can  guess  a  man's  thoughts  and  write 
'em  down  a'niost  before  he  speaks.  Why  won't  you 
guess  'em  for  me  ?  Write  to  her  that  when  we  parted 
she  was  unkind ;  but  bo  she  unkind  for  ever  and 
ever,  in  my  thoughts  she  M'ill  be  tlie  best  woman  in 
the  world.  Tell  her  that  whatever  she  may  do  amiss, 
in  my  eyes  she'll  last  on  as  the  angel  God  A'mighty 

345 


SHINING    FERRY 

meant  her  to  be,  and  all  because  I  love  her  and  can't 
help  it.  Say  that  to  her,  and  say  that  there's  degrees 
between  ns  never  to  be  crossed,  and  I  know  it,  and 
have  never  a  hope  to  win  level  with  her;  but  this  once 
I  will  speak  and  be  silent  all  the  rest  o'  my  days. 
Tell  her  that  there's  bars  between  ns,  but  the  only 
real  one  is  her  own  self;  that  for  nothing  would  she 
be  beyond  my  reach  but  for  l)eing  the  woman  she  is." 

Hester  laid  down  the  pen  and  looked  up  at  him 
with  eyes  at  once  dim  and  shining. 

"  I  cannot  write  this,"  she  said,  luu-  lips  stammer- 
ing on  the  words.  "  I  am  not  worthy — I  laughed  at 
you." 

"  Tell  her,"  he  went  on,  "  that  I'm  a  common  sea- 
man, earnin'  two  pound  a  month,  with  no  book-learn- 
ing and  no  hopes  to  rise ;  tell  her  that  I've  an  old 
mother  to  keep — that  for  years  to  come  there's  no 
chance  of  my  marryin' ;  and  then  tell  her  I'm  glad 
of  it,  for  it  keeps  me  free  to  think  only  of  her.  Write 
all  that  down,  Miss  Marvin." 

"  I  cannot,"  she  protested. 

Very  gently  but  firmly  he  laid  a  brown,  strong 
hand  over  hers  as  it  rested  on  the  letter.  In  a  second 
he  withdrew  it,  but  in  that  second  she  felt  herself 
mastered,  commanded.  She  took  up  the  pen  and 
wrote. 

"  I  have  used  your  own  words  and  none  of  mine," 

346 


HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

she  said^  when  she  had  finished,  "  Shall  I  read  them 
over  to  you  ?  " 

"  No."  He  took  the  letter,  folded  it,  and  placed 
it  in  the  envelope  she  handed  him.  "  Why  didn't 
you  put  it  into  better  words  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  I  could  not.  Trust  a  woman  to  know 
what  a  woman  likes.  If  I  were  this — this  Har- 
riet " —     Her  voice  faltered  and  came  to  a  halt. 

"  Yes  ?  "     He  waited  for  her  to  continue. 

"  Why,  then,  that  letter  would  make  me  a  proud 
woman." 

"  Though  it  came  from  a  common  sailor  ?  " 

"  She  would  not  think  first  of  that.  She  would  be 
proud  to  be  so  loved." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he  slowly,  and,  drawing  a 
shilling  from  his  pocket,  laid  it  on  the  desk.  "  Good- 
night and  good-bye,  Miss  Marvin." 

He  moved  to  the  window  and  flung  up  the  sash. 
Seated  astride  the  ledge,  he  looked  back  at  her  with 
a  smile  which  seemed  to  say,  "  At  last  we  are 
friends !  "  The  next  moment  he  had  reached  out  a 
hand,  caught  hold  of  the  One-and- All's  forestay,  and 
swung  himself  out  into  the  darkness. 

Hester,  standing  alone  in  the  little  office,  heard 
a  soft  sliding  sound  which  puzzled  her,  followed  by 
the  light  thud  of  his  feet  as  he  dropped  upon  deck. 
She  leaned  out  for  a  moment  before  closing  the  win- 

347 


SHINING    FEREY 

dow.     All  was  silent  below,  save  for  the  lap  of  the 
tide  between  the  schooner  and  the  quay-wall. 

As  Tom  Trevarthen  opened  the  window  and 
leaned  nut  to  <i,i"asp  the  forestay,  Myra,  still  cower- 
ing by  the  deck-house,  saw  her  uncle  swing  himself 
hurriedly  back  into  the  shadow  of  the  quay-door. 
She  too  retreated  a  pace ;  and  with  that,  her  foot 
striking  against  the  low  coaming  of  an  open  hatch- 
way, with  a  clutch  at  air  she  pitched  backward  and 
down  into  the  vessel's  hold. 

She  did  not  fall  far,  the  One-and-AU  being  loaded 
to  within  a  foot  or  two  of  the  hatches.  Her  tumble 
sent  her  sprawling  upon  a  heap  of  loose  china-clay. 
She  felt  it  sliding  under  her  and  herself  sliding 
with  it,  softlv,  down  into  darkness.  She  was  bruised. 
She  had  wrenched  her  shoulder  terribly,  but  she 
clenched  her  teeth  and  kept  back  the  cry  she  had  all 
but   uttered. 

The  sliding  ceased,  and  she  tried  to  raise  herself 
on  ail  elbow  out  of  the  choking  smother  of  clay-dust. 
"Jlie  etbtit  sent  a  stab  of  pain  through  her,  exquisite, 
exciuciatiug.  She  dro])ped  forward  upon  her  face, 
and  there  in  the  darkness  she  fainted. 

Hester,  having  closed  the  window,  put  out  the 
lights  quietly,  pausing  in  the  outer  office  for  a  glance 
at  the  raked-out  stove.     Outside,  as  she  locked  the 

348 


HESTER    WRITES    A    LOVE-LETTER 

door  beliiiid  her,  she  paused  again  at  the  head  of  the 
step  for  an  upward  look  at  the  sky,  where,  beyond 
the  clouds,  a  small  star  or  two  twinkled  in  the  dark 
square  of  Pegasus.  She  never  knew  how  close  in  that 
instant  she  stood  to  death.  Within  six  paces  of  her 
crouched  a  man  made  desperate  by  the  worst  of  ter- 
rors— terror  of  himself;  and  maddened  by  the  worst 
of  all  provocatives — jealousy. 

He  had  come  to  her  on  a  forlorn  hope,  believing 
that  she  only — if  any  helper  in  the  world — could 
be  his  salvation  from  the  devil  within  him.  ISTot  in 
crueltv,  but  in  fear — which  can  be  crueller  than 
cruelty  itself — he  had  packed  off  the  helpless  blind 
boy  beyond  his  reach.  He  had  promised  himself 
that  by  dismissing  the  temptation  he  could  lay  the 
devil  at  a  stroke  and  finally.  On  his  way  back  from 
the  station  he  had  heard  whispered  within  him  the 
horrible  truth :  that  he  was  a  lost  man,  without  self- 
control. 

He  had  sought  her  merely  by  the  instinct  of  self- 
preservation.  She  had  cowed  and  mastered  him  once. 
In  awful  consciousness  of  his  infirmity  he  craved 
only  to  be  mastered  again,  to  be  soothed,  quieted.  He 
nodded  to  the  men  and  women  he  passed  in  the 
streets.  They  saw  nothing  amiss  with  him — nothing 
more  than  his  habitual  straight-lipped  visage  and  ill- 
fitting  clothes. 

349 


SHINING    FERRY 

He  had  dogged  her  to  the  office  and  listened  out- 
side for  one,  two,  three  honrs.  In  the  end,  as  he 
believed,  he  had  caught  her  at  tryst  with  his  worst 
enemy — with  the  man  who  had  knocked  him  down 
and  humiliated  him.  Yet  in  his  instant  need  he  hated 
Tom  Trevarthen  less  as  a  rival  in  love,  less  from  re- 
membered humiliation,  than  as  a  robber  of  the  sole 
plank  which  might  have  saved  him  from  drowning. 

So  long  had  the  pair  been  closeted  together  that  a 
saner  jealousy  might  have  suggested  more  evil  sus- 
picions. His  jealousy  passed  these  by  as  of  no  ac- 
count. He  could  think  only  of  his  need  and  its  foiled 
chance :  his  need  was  more  urgent  than  any  love.  He 
had  come  for  help,  and  found  her  colloguing  with  his 
enemy. 

In  his  abject  rage  he  could  easily  have  done  her 
violence  and  as  easily  have  run  forward  and  cried 
her  pity.  Between  the  two  impulses  he  crouched 
irresolute  and  let  her  pass. 

Hester  came  down  the  steps  slowly,  passed  within 
a  yard  of  him,  and  as  slowly  Avent  up  the  dark  court- 
yard. For  the  last  time  she  paused,  with  her  hand  on 
Mr.  Bennv's  door-latch:  and  this  was  what  she  said 
there  to  herself,  silently — 

"  But  why  Harriet  ? — of  all  the  hateful  names !  " 


350 


CHAPTER   XXiy 


THE   RESCUE 


<( 


Styi.e,"  said  Mr.  Joshua  Benny,  "  has  been 
defined  as  a  gift  of  saying  anything,  of  striking  any 
note  in  the  scale  of  human  feelings,  without  impro- 
priety. We  cannot  all  have  distinction,  Mr.  Parker — 
what  I  may  call  the  je  ne  sals  quoi  " — 

Mr.  Joshua  put  this  with  a  fine  modesty,  the  dis- 
tinction of  his  own  style  being  proverbial — in  Spendi- 
love's  Press  Supply  Bureau  at  any  rate.  He  might 
have  added  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  "  You  see  to  what 
it  has  advanced  me  !  "  for  whereas  the  rest  of  Spendi- 
love's  literary  men  toiled  in  two  gangs,  one  on  either 
side  of  a  long  high-pitched  desk,  and  wrote  slashing 
leaders  for  the  provincial  press,  Mr.  Joshua  exercised 
his  lightness  of  touch  upon  "  picturesque  middles  "  in 
a  sort  of  loose-box  partitioned  off  from  the  main 
office  by  screens  of  opaque  glass.  This  den — he  spoke 
of  it  as  his  "  scriptorium  " — had  a  window  looking 
out  upon  an  elevated  railway,  along  which  thv  trains 
of  the  London,  Chatham,  and  Dover  line  banged  and 

351 


SUITING    FERRY 

rattled  all  day  long.  For  Spcndilove's  (as  it  was 
called  by  its  familiars)  inhabited  the  second  floor  of 
a  building  close  to  the  foot  of  Lndgate  Hill.  The 
noise  no  longer  disturbed  Mr.  Joshua,  except  when  an 
engine  halted  just  outside  to  blow  off  steam. 

Mr.  Joshua  leaned  back  in  his  writing-chair, 
tapped  a  galley  proof  with  admonitory  forefinger, 
and  gazed  over  his  spectacles  upon  Mr.  Parker — a 
weedy  youth  with  a  complexion  suggestive  of  un- 
cooked pastry. 

"  We  cannot  all  have  distinction,  Mr.  Parker, 
nor  can  it  be  acquired  by  effort.  Vigour  we  may 
cultivate,  and  clearness  we  must;  it  is  essential.  On 
a  level  with  these  I  should  place  propriety.  Propriety 
teaches  us  to  regulate  our  speech  by  the  occasion ;  to 
be  incisive  at  times  and  at  times  urbane ;  to  adapt 
the  '  how  '  to  the  '  when,'  as  I  might  \)\\t  it.  I  do 
not  think — 1  really  do  not  think — that  Christmas 
Eve  is  a  happily  chosen  moment  for  calling  j\lr. 
Disraeli  '  a  Jew  adventurer.'  " 

"  Mr.  Makins,  sir,  who  wrote  yesterday's  Liberal 
leader  for  the  syndicate,  wound  up  by  saying  the  time 
had  gone  by  for  mincing  our  opinion  of  the  front 
Opposition  Bench.  He  warned  me  last  night,  when 
I  took  over  his  job,  to  pitch  it  strong.  He  had  it  on 
good  authority  that  the  constituencies  have  been  a 
good  deal  shaken  by  Mr.  Gladstone's  Army  Purchase 

352 


THE    RESCUE 

coup,  and  some  straight  talk  is  needed  to  pull  them 
together,  in  the  eastern  counties  especially." 

"  You  are  young  to  the  work,  Mr.  Parker.  You 
may  depend  upon  it — you  may  take  it  from  me — 
that  Spendilove's  will  not  fail  in  straight  talking, 
on  either  side  of  the  question.  But  we  must  observe 
what  our  Gallic  neighbours  term  les  convenances.  By 
the  way,  has  Makins  gone  off  for  the  holidays  ?  " 

"  He  was  to  have  gone  off  last  night,  sir ;  but 
he  turned  up  this  morning  to  write  Sam  Collins's 
*  Tory  Squire  '  column  for  the  Northern  Guardian, 
and  a  syndicate-middle  on  '  Christmas  Cheer  in  the 
Good  Old  Times.'  Collins  sent  him  a  wire  late  last 
night ;  his  wife  is  down  with  pneumonia." 

"  Tut,  tut — send  him  to  me.  A  good-hearted 
fellow,  Makins !  Tell  him  I've  a  dozen  old  articles 
that  will  fix  him  up  with  '  Christmas  Cheer '  in  less 
than  twenty  minutes.  I  keep  them  indexed.  And  if 
he  wants  it  illustrated  I  can  look  him  out  a  dozen 
blocks  to  take  his  choice  from — *  Bringing  in  the 
Boar's  Head,'  and  that  sort  of  thing." 

''  I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  but  before  I  send  him 
there's  a  party  of  four  in  the  lower  office  waiting  to 
see  you — one  of  them  a  child — and  seafaring  folk 
by  their  talk.  They  walked  in  while  I  was  sitting 
alone  there,  finishing  off  my  article,  and  not  a  word 
would  they  tell  of  their  business  but  that  they  must 

353 


SHINING    FEKRY 

speak  to  you  in  private.  It's  mj  belief  they've 
come  straight  off  a  wreck,  and  with  a  paragraph  at 
least." 

"  Seafaring  folk,  do  you  say  ?  "  It  was  a  cher- 
ished hope  of  Mr.  Joshua  Benny's  that  one  of  these 
days  Spendilove's  would  attract  private  information 
to  its  door,  and  not  confine  itself  to  decorating  so 
much  of  the  world's  news  as  had  already  become 
common  property. 

"  They  asked  for  you,  sir,  as  ^  Mr.  Joshua  Benny, 
the  great  writer.'  " 

"  Dear  me,  I  hope  you  have  not  kept  them  waiting 
long  ?  Show  them  up,  please ;  and — here,  wait  a  mo- 
ment— on  your  way  you  can  take  Makins  an  armful 
of  my  commonplace  books — eighteen  sixty-three  to 
seven ;  that  will  do.  Tell  him  to  look  through  the 
indexes  himself;  he'll  find  what  he  wants  under 
'  Yule.'  " 

If  Mr.  Joshua's  visitors  had  come,  as  Mr.  Parker 
surmised,  straight  off  a  wreck,  the  first  to  file  into 
his  office  had  assuredly  salved  from  calamity  a  won- 
derful headgear.  This  was  Mrs.  Purchase,  in  a  bon- 
net crowned  with  a  bunch  of  glass  grapes;  and  by 
the  hand  she  led  Myra,  who  carried  one  arm  in  a 
sling.  The  child's  features  were  pinched  and  pale, 
and  her  eyes  unnaturally  bright.  Behind  followed 
Mr.   Purchase  and  Tom  Trevarthen,   holding  their 

354 


THE    KESCUE 

caps,  and  looking  around  uneasily  for  a  mat  to  wipe 
their  shoes  on. 

ISTo  such  shyness  troubled  Mrs.  Purchase.  "  Good- 
morning  !  "   she  began  briskly,  holding  out  a  hand. 

Mr.  Joshua  took  it  helplessly,  his  eyes  for  the 
moment  riveted  on  her  bonnet.  It  bore  no  traces  of 
exposure  to  sea-water,  and  he  transferred  his  scrutiny 
to  the  child. 

"  You  don't  remember  me,"  pursued  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase cheerfully.  "  But  I'd  have  picked  you  out  from 
a  thousand,  though  I  han't  seen  you  since  you  was  so 
high."  She  spread  out  a  palm  some  three  feet  or  less 
from  the  floor.  "  I'm  Hannah  Purchase,  that  used  to 
be  Hannah  Rosewarne,  daughter  of  John  Rosewarne 
of  Hall.  You  know  now  who  I  be,  I  reckon ;  and 
this  here's  my  niece,  and  that  there's  my  husband. 
The  young  man  in  the  doorway  ain't  no  relation ; 
but  he  comes  from  Hall  too.  He's  Sal  Trevarthen's 
son.    You  remember  Sal  Trevarthen  ?  " 

"  Ah,  yes — yes,  to  be  sure.  Delighted  to  see  you, 
madam — delighted,"  stammered  Mr.  Joshua,  who, 
however,  as  yet  showed  sig-ns  only  of  bewilderment, 
"  And  you  wish  to  see  me  " — 

"  Wish  to  see  you  ?  Man  alive,  we've  been  hunt- 
ing all  Fleet  Street  for  you !  Talk  about  rabbit 
warrens !  Well,  when  'tis  over  'tis  over,  as  Joan 
said  by  her  wedding,  and  here  we  be  at  last." 

355 


SHINING    FERRY 

She  paused  and  looked  around. 

"  Place  wants  dusting,"  she  observed.  "  Never 
married,  did  'ee  ?  I  reckoned  I'd  never  heard  of  your 
marrying.  Your  brother  now  has  eleven  of  'em — 
children,  I  mean  ;  and  yet  you  feature  him  wonderful, 
though  fuller  in  the  face.  But  the  Lord's  ways  be 
past  finding  out." 

"  Amen,"  said  her  husband,  paying  his  customary 
tribute  to  a  scriptural  quotation,  and  added,  "  They 
don't  keep  over  many  chairs  in  this  office."  He  ad- 
dressed this  observation  to  Tom  Trevarthen  with  an 
impartial  air  as  one  announcing  a  scientific  discovery. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  ]\Irs.  Purchase,  seating  her- 
self in  a  chair  which  j\lr.  Joshua  niadt;  haste  to  pro- 
vide. "  You  will  oblige  me  by  paying  no  attention  to 
'Siah.  Well,  as  I  was  saying,  it's  a  mercy  the  Lord 
has  made  vou  the  man  you  be :  for  we're  in  want 
of  your  help,  all  four  of  us." 

"  If  I  can  be  of  service  " —  Mr.  Joshua  mur- 
mured. 

"  I  remember,"  said  Mrs.  Purchase,  arranging  her 
bonnet  with  an  air  of  one  coming  to  business,  "  when 
I  was  a  little  girl  reading  in  a  history  book  about 
a  man  called  Bucket,  who  fell  in  love  with  a  Ijlack 
woman  in  foreign  parts ;  or  she  may  have  been  brown 
or  whitev-brown  for  all  I  can  remember  at  this 
distance  of  time.     But,  anyway,  he  was  parted  from 

356 


THE    KESCUE 

her,  and  came  home  to  London  here,  and  all  she  knew 
about  him  was  his  name  '  Bncket.'  Well,  she  took 
ship  and  kept  on  saying  '  Bucket '  till  somewhere  in 
London  she  found  him.  And  if  that  happened  once, 
it  ought  to  be  able  to  happen  again,  especially  in 
these  days  of  newspapers,  and  when  we've  got  the 
address." 

Mrs.  Purchase  produced  a  crumpled  slip  of  pa- 
per, and  handed  it  to  Mr.  Joshua,  who  adjusted  his 
spectacles. 

"  An  institution  for  the  blind,  and  near  Bexley, 
apparently."    He  glanced  up  in  mild  interrogation. 

"  What  sort  of  place  is  it  ?  Nice  goings-on  there 
I'll  promise  you ;  and  if  'tis  better  than  penal  servi- 
tude I  shall  be  surprised,  seeing  that  Sam  Rosewarne 
is  hand-in-glove  with  it.  Never  you  mind,  my  dear," 
she  added,  turning  to  Myra,  who  shivered,  holding  her 
hand.  "  We'll  get  him  out  of  it,  or  there's  no  law  in 
England." 

Mr.  Joshua,  still  hopelessly  fogged,  wheeled  his 
chair  round  to  the  bookcase  behind  him,  and  took 
down  a  Directory,  with  a  smaller  reference  work  upon 
Hospitals  and  Charitable  Institutions. 

"  Il'm,"  said  he,  coming  to  a  halt  as  ho  tui'iiod 
the  pages ;  "  here  it  is — '  Huntingdon  Orphanage  for 
the  Blind  ' — *  mainly  suj^ported  by  voluntary  con- 
tributions ' — address,  52  Conyers  Road,  Bexley,  S.E. 

357 


SHINING   FEREY 

It  seems  to  have  an  influential  list  of  patrons,  mainly 
Dissenters,  as  I  sliould  gness." 

"  It  may  keep  'em,"  said  Mrs.  Purchase,  "  so  long 
as  you  get  that  poor  child  out  of  it." 

"  My  dear  lady,  if  you  would  be  more  explicit !  " 
cried  Mr.  Joshua.  "  To  what  poor  child  do  you 
allude  ?    And  what  is  the  help  you  ask  of  me  ?  " 

"  If  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  you  can  de- 
nounce 'em."  Mrs.  Purchase  untied  her  bonnet 
strings,  and  then  slowly  crossed  her  legs — an  un- 
feminine  habit  of  hers.  "  'Tis  like  a  story  out  of 
a  book,"  she  pursued.  "  This  very  morning  as  we 
was  moored  a  little  above  Deptford  in  the  Virtuous 
Lady — that's  my  husband's  ship — and  me  making  the 
coffee  for  breakfast  as  usual,  comes  off  a  boy  with 
a  telegram,  saying,  '  Meet  me  and  Miss  Myra  by  the 
foot  of  the  Monument.  ]\Iost  important. — Tom  Tre- 
varthen.'  You  might  have  knocked  me  down  with 
a  feather,  and  even  then  I  couldn't  make  head  nor 
tail  of  it." 

To  this  extent  her  experience  seemed  to  be  re- 
peating itself  in  Mr.  Joshua. 

"  For  to  begin  with,"  she  went  on,  "  how  did  I 
know  that  Tom  Trevarthen  was  in  London  ?  let  alone 
that  last  time  we  met  we  parted  in  anger.  But  licM 
picked  us  out  among  the  shipping  as  he  was  towed 
up  last  night  in  the   One-and-All  to  anchor  in   the 

358 


THE    KESCUE 

Pool.  And  I  defy  anyone  to  guess  that  lie'd  got 
Myra  here  on  board,  who's  my  own  niece  by  a  sec- 
ond marriage,  and  shipped  herself  as  a  stowaway,  but 
was  hurt  by  a  fall  down  the  hold,  and  might  have 
lain  there  and  starved  to  death,  poor  child — and  all 
for  love  of  her  brother  that  his  uncle  had  shipped 
off  to  a  blind  orphanage.  But  there's  a  providence, 
Mr.  Benny,  tiiat  watches  over  children — and  you  may 
lay  to  that."  Mrs.  Purchase  took  breath.  "  Well, 
naturally,  as  you  may  guess,  my  first  thought  was  to 
set  it  do^vn  for  a  hoax,  though  not  in  the  best  of  taste. 
But  with  Myra's  name  staring  me  in  the  face  in  the 
telegram,  and  blood  being  thicker  than  water,  on 
second  thoughts  I  told  'Siah  to  put  on  his  best  clothes 
and  come  to  the  Monument  with  me,  not  saying  more 
for  fear  of  upsetting  him.  '  Why  the  Monument  ? ' 
says  'Siah.  '  Why  not  ? '  says  I ;  '  it  was  put  up 
against  the  Roman  Catholics.'  So  that  determined 
him ;  and  I  wanted  company,  for  in  London  you  can't 
be  too  careful.  Sure  enough,  when  we  got  to  it, 
there  was  Tom  waiting,  with  this  poor  child  holding 
his  hand ;  and  then  the  whole  story  came  out.  '  But 
what's  to  be  done  ? '  I  said,  for  my  very  flesh  rebelled 
against  such  cruelty  to  the  child,  let  alone  that  he 
was  flogged  black  and  blue  at  home.  And  then  Tom 
Trevarthen  had  a  thought  even  cleverer  than  his 
telegram.     '  Peter  Benny,'  says  he,   '  has  a  brother 

359 


SHINING    FERRY 

here  in  London  connected  "vvith  the  press;  the  press 
can  do  anything,  and  by  Peter's  account  his  brotlier 
can  do  anything  with  the  press.  If  we  can  only  find 
him,  our  job's  as  good  as  done.'  So  we  hailed  a  cab, 
and  told  the  man  to  drive  us  to  the  Ship'ping  Gazette. 
But  I  reckon  we  must  have  started  someways  at  the 
wrong  end,  for  the  Shipping  Gazette  passed  us  on  to 
a  place  called  the  Times,  where  they  kept  us  waiting 
forty  minutes,  and  then  said  they  didn't  know  you,  but 
advised  us  to  try  the  Cheshire  Cheese,  where  I  asked 
for  the  editor,  and  this  caused  another  delay.  But  a 
gentleman  there  drinkin'  whisky-and-water  said  he'd 
heard  of  you  in  connection  with  the  Christian  Herald, 
and  the  Christian  Herald  gave  us  over  to  a  policeman, 
who  brought  us  here ;  and  now  the  question  is,  what 
would  you  advise  ?  " 

"  I  should  advise,"  said  Mr.  Joshua,  pulling  out 
his  watch,  "  your  coming  off  to  lunch  with  me." 

"  You're  a  practical  man,  I  see,"  said  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase, "  and  I  say  again  'tis  a  pity  you  never  married. 
We'll  leave  the  whole  affair  in  your  hands." 

In  his  published  writings  Mr.  Joshua  had  often 
descanted  on  the  power  of  the  Fourth  Estate ;  and  in 
his  addresses  to  young  aspirants  he  ever  laid  stress 
on  the  crucial  faculty  of  sifting  out  the  essentials, 
wliether  in    narrative  or  argument,   from   whatever 

360 


THE   RESCUE 

was  of  secondary  importance,  circumstantial,  or  ir- 
relevant. The  confidence  and  accuracy  with  which 
Mrs.  Purchase  challenged  him  to  put  his  faith  and  his 
method  into  instant  practice,  staggered  him  not  a 
little.  He  felt  himself  hit,  so  to  speak,  with  both 
barrels. 

It  will  be  allowed  that  he  rose  to  the  test  ad- 
mirably. Under  an  arch  of  the  railway  bridge  at 
the  foot  of  Ludgate  Hill  there  is  a  restaurant  where 
you  may  eat  and  drink  and  hear  all  the  while  the 
trains  rumbling  over  your  head.  To  this  he  led  the 
party;  and  while  Mrs.  Purchase  talked,  he  sifted 
out  with  professional  skill  the  main  points  of  her 
story,  and  discovered  what  she  required  of  him.  To 
be  sure,  the  Power  of  the  Press  remained  to  be 
vindicated,  and  as  yet  he  was  far  from  seeing  his 
way  clear.  The  woman  required  him  to  storm  the 
doors  of  an  orphanage  and  rescue  without  parley  the 
body  of  a  child  consigned  to  it  by  a  legal  guardian 
(which  was  absurd)  ;  or  if  not  instantly  successful, 
to  cow  the  officials  with  threats  of  exposure  (which 
again  was  absurd ;  since,  for  aught  he  knew,  the  in- 
stitution thoroughly  deserved  the  subscriptions  of 
the  public). 

Yet  while  his  own  heart  sank,  the  confidence  of 
his  guests,  and  their  belief  in  him,  sensibly  increased. 
He   had   chosen    this   particular   restaurant    not   de- 

3C1 


SHINING    FERRY 

liberately,  but  with  the  instinct  of  a  born  journalist ; 
for  it  is  the  first  secret  of  journalism  to  appear  to  be 
moving  at  higli  speed  even  when  standing  absolutely 
still,  and  here  in  the  purlieus  of  the  clanging  station, 
amid  the  thunder  of  trains  and  the  rush  of  hundreds 
of  feet  to  bookstalls  and  ticket-offices ;  here  where  the 
clash  of  knives  and  forks  and  plates  mingled  with 
the  rumble  of  cabs  and  the  calls  of  porters  and  news- 
paper boys,  the  impression  of  activity  was  irresisti- 
ble. Here,  as  Mrs.  Purchase  had  declared,  was  a 
practical  man.  Their  business  promised  well  with 
all  these  wheels  in  motion. 

"  And  now,"  said  Mr.  Joshua,  as  he  paid  the 
bill,  "  we  will  take  the  train  for  Bexley,  and  see." 

In  his  own  heart  he  hoped  that  a  visit  to  the  Or- 
phanage would  satisfy  them.  lie  would  seek  the 
governor  or  matron  in  charge ;  they  would  be  allowed 
an  interview  with  the  child,  and  finding  him  in  good 
hands,  contented  and  well  cared  for,  would  shed  some 
natural  tears  perhaps,  but  return  cheerful  and  re- 
assured. This  was  as  much  as  Mr.  Joshua  dared  to 
hope.  AVliile  piecing  together  Mrs.  Purchase's  nar- 
rative he  had  been  sincerely  touched — good  man — by 
some  of  its  details  ;  particularly  when  Tom  Trevarthen 
struck  in  and  related  how  on  the  second  night  out 
of  port  he  had  been  kept  awake  by  a  faint  persistent 
knocking  on  the  bulkhead  separating  the  fo'c'sle  from 

362 


THE    EESCUE 

the  schooner's  hold ;  how  he  had  drawn  his  shipmates' 
attention  to  it ;  how  he  had  persuaded  the  skipper 
to  uncover  one  of  the  hatches ;  and  how  he  had  de- 
scended with  a  lantern  and  found  poor  Myra  half 
dead  with  sickness  and  hunger.  Mr.  Joshua  did  not 
understand  children ;  but  he  had  a  good  heart  never- 
theless. He  eyed  Myra  from  time  to  time  with  a 
sympathetic  curiosity,  shy  and  almost  timid,  as  the 
train  swung  out  over  the  points,  and  the  child,  nestling 
down  in  a  corner  by  the  window,  gazed  out  across  the 
mirky  suburbs  with  eyes  which,  devouring  the  dis- 
tance, regarded  him  not  at  all. 

The  child  did  not  doubt.  She  followed  with 
the  others  as  he  shepherded  them  through  the  station 
to  the  train  which  came,  as  if  to  his  call,  from 
among  half  a  dozen  others,  all  ready  at  hand.  He 
was  a  magician,  benevolent  as  any  in  her  fairy-tales, 
and  when  all  was  over  she  would  thank  him,  even 
with  tears.  But  just  now  she  could  think  only  of 
Clem  and  her  journey's  end.  Clem ! — Clem  ! — the 
train  clanked  out  his  name  over  and  over.  Would 
these  lines  of  dingy  houses,  factories,  smoky  gardens, 
ru])bish-heaps,  broken  palings,  never  come  to  an  end  ? 

They  trailed  past  the  window  in  meaningless  pro- 
cession ;  emjDty  phenomena,  and  as  dull  as  they  were 
empty.  But  the  glorious  golden  certainty  lay  beyond. 
"  Just  look  to  the  poor  mite !  "  whispered  Mrs.  Pur- 

3G3 


SHINING   FERRY 

chase,  niTclging  lier  lnisl)aii(l.  Myra's  ears  caught 
tlic  words  distinctly,  but  Myra  did  not  hear. 

Bexley  at  last !  with  two  or  three  cabs  outside  the 
station.  Later  on  she  remembered  them,  and  the 
colour  of  the  horse  in  the  one  which  Mr.  Joshua  chose, 
and  the  driver's  face,  and  Mr.  Joshua  leaning  out  of 
the  window  and  shouting  directions.  She  remem- 
bered also  the  mist  on  the  glass  window  of  the  four- 
wheeler,  and  the  foggy  houses,  detached  and  semi- 
detached, looming  behind  their  roadway  walls  and 
naked  fences  of  privet;  the  clapping  sound  of  the 
horse,  trotting  with  one  loose  shoe ;  Aunt  Hannah's 
clutch  at  her  arm  as  they  drew  ui)  in  the  earlv 
dusk  before  a  gate  with  a  clump  of  evergreens  on 
either  side ;  and  a  glimpse  of  a  tall  red-brick  build- 
ing as  Mr.  Joshua  opened  the  door  and  alighted. 

He  was  gone,  and  they  sat  in  the  cab  and  waited 
for  him  a  tedious  while.  She  did  not  understand. 
Why  should  they  wait  now,  with  Clem  so  near  at 
hand  ?  But  she  was  patient,  not  doubting  at  all  of 
the  result. 

He  came  running  back  at  length,  and  radiant — 
as  though  the  issue  had  cn-cr  been  in  doubt !  The 
cab  moved  through  the  gateway  and  halted  before 
a  low  flight  of  steps,  and  everyone  clambered  out. 
The  dusk  had  deepened,  and  she  blinked  as  she 
stepped  into  a  lighted   hall.     A  tall  man  met  them 

3G4 


THE    KESCUE 

there;  whispered,  or  seemed  to  whisper,  a  moment 
with  Mr.  Joshua ;  and  beckoned  them  to  follow.  They 
followed  him,  turning  to  the  right,  down  a  long  cor- 
ridor not  so  brightly  lit  as  the  hall  had  been.  At 
the  end  he  halted  for  a  moment  and  gently  opened 
a  door. 

They  passed  through  it  into  what,  for  a  moment, 
seemed  to  be  total  darkness.  They  stood,  in  fact^  at 
the  head  of  a  tall  platform  of  many  steps,  semi- 
circular in  shape,  looking  down  upon  a  long  hall, 
unlit  as  yet  (for  the  blind  need  no  lamps)  ;  and  below, 
on  the  floor  of  the  hall,  ranged  at  their  desks  in  the 
fading  light,  sat  row  upon  row  of  children.  The 
murmur  of  many  voices  rose  from  that  shadowy 
throng,  as  Myra,  shaking  off  Aunt  Hannah's  grasp, 
stepped  forward  to  the  edge  of  the  platform  with  both 
arms  extended,  her  hurt  forgotten. 

"  Myra  !  " 

The  opening  of  the  door  could  scarcely  have  been 
audible  amid  the  murmur  below.  She  herself  had 
stretched  out  her  arms,  uttering  no  sound,  not  yet 
discerning  him  among  the  dim  murmuring  shadows. 
What  telegraphy  of  love  reached,  and  on  the  instant, 
that  one  child  in  the  throng  and  fetched  him  to  his 
feet,  crvinff  out  her  name  ?  And  he  was  blind.  From 
the  way  he  ran  to  her,  heeding  no  obstacles,  stumbling 
against  desks,  breaking  his  shins  cruelly  against  the 

365 


SHINING   PERRY 

steps  of  the  platform  as  he  stretched  np  both  hands 
to  her,  all  might  see  that  he  was  blind.  Yet  he  came, 
as  she  had  known  he  would  come. 

"  Clem  !  " 

They  were  in  each  other's  arms,  sobbing,  laughing, 
crooning  soft  words  together,  but  only  these  articu- 
late— 

"  You  knew  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  have  come — I  knew  you  would  come  !  " 

"  Now  I  ask  you,"  said  Aunt  Hannah  to  the 
Matron,  who,  unobserved  by  the  visitors,  had  followed 
them  down  the  corridor,  '^  I  don't  know  you  from 
Adam,  ma'am,  but  I  ask  you,  as  a  Christian  woman, 
if  you'd  part  them  two  lambs  ?     And,  if  so,  how  ?  " 

The  Matron's  answer  went  near  to  abashing  her ; 
for  the  Matron  turned  out  to  be  not  only  a  Chris- 
tian woman,  as  challenged,  but  an  extremely  tender- 
hearted one. 

"  I  like  the  child,"  she  answered.  "  T  like  him 
so  much  that  I'd  be  thankful  if  you  could  get  liiiu 
removed ;  for,  to  tell  the  truth,  he's  ailing  here. 
We  try  to  feed  him  well,  and  we  try  to  make  him 
happy ;  but  he's  losing  flesh,  and  he's  not  happy.  In- 
deed we  are  not  tyrants,  ma'am,  and  if  it  pleases  you 
his  sister  shall  stay  with  him  overnight,  and  I  prom- 
ise to  take  care  of  her ;   but  he  came  to  us  from 

366 


THE    KESCUE 

his  legal  guardian^  and  without  leave  we  can't  give 
him  up." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  inspiration  came  to 
Mr.  Joshua. 

"  Why  not  a  telegram  ?  "  he  suggested.  "  As 
his  aunt,  ma'am,  you  might  suggest  a  sea  voyage  for 
the  child,  and  leave  it  to  me  to  word  it  strongly." 

"  If  I  wasn't  a  married  woman,"  said  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase, "  1  could  openly  bless  the  hour  I  made  your 
acquaintance." 

Between  the  despatch  of  Mr.  Joshua's  telegram 
and  the  receipt  of  his  answer  there  was  weary  waiting 
for  all  but  the  two  children.  They,  content  in  the 
moment's  bliss,  secure  of  the  future,  being  reunited, 
neither  asked  nor  doubted. 

Yet  they  missed  something — the  glad,  astounded 
surprise  of  their  elders  as  Mr.  Joshua,  having  taken 
the  yellow  envelope  from  Mrs.  Purchase,  whose  cour- 
age failed  her,  broke  it  open,  and  read  aloud,  "Leave 
child  in  your  hands.     Only  do  not  bring  him  home." 

It  was  a  happy  party  that  travelled  back  that 
night  to  Blackfriars ;  and  Mr.  Joshua,  after  shaking 
hands  with  everybody  many  times  over,  and  promised 
to  eat  his  Christmas  dinner  on  board  the  Virtuous 
Lady,  walked  homeward  to  his  solitary  lodgings  elate, 
treading  the  frosty  pavement  with  an  unaccustomed 
springiness  of  step.  He  had  vindicated  the  Power 
of  the  Press.  og'r 


CHAPTER    XXV 


BUT    TOM    CAN    WKITE 


"  A  LETTER  for  you,  Mrs.  Trevarthen  !  " 
Spring  had  come.  The  flight  and  finding  of 
Myra  had  long  since  ceased  to  be  a  nine  days'  wonder, 
and  she  and  Clem  and  Tom  Trevarthen — received 
back  into  favour,  and  in  some  danger  of  being  petted 
by  Mrs.  Purchase,  ^vho  had  never  been  known  to  })et 
a  seaman — were  shipmates  now  on  board  the  Yiriuoiis 
Lady,  and  had  passed  for  many  weeks  now  beyond 
ken  of  the  little  port.  A  new  schoolmistress  reigned 
in  Hester's  stead,  since  Hester,  with  the  Xew  Year, 
had  taken  over  the  care  of  the  Widows'  Houses. 
In  his  counting-house  at  Hall  Samuel  Rosewame  sat 
day  after  day  transacting  his  business  without  a 
clerk,  speaking  seldom,  shunned  by  all — even  by  his 
own  son ;  a  man  afraid  of  himself.  Susannah  de- 
clared that  the  house  was  like  a  tomb,  and  vowed 
regularly  on  Monday  mornings  to  give  "  warning  "  at 
the  next  week-end.  The  villagers,  accustomed  td  the 
Rosewarne  tyranny  for  generations,  Imd  fdund  it  lianl 
to  believe  in  tlieir  release.     Lady  Killiow  was  little 

368 


BUT    TOM    CAK    WRITE 

more  than  a  name  to  them,  Rosewarne  a  very  present 
steward  and  master  of  their  lives ;  and  at  first,  when 
Peter  Benny  engaged  workmen  to  pull  down  Nicky 
Vro's  cottage  and  erect  a  modest  ofiice  on  its  site,  they 
admired  his  temerity,  but  awoke  each  morning  to  fresh 
wonder  that  no  thunderbolt  from  Hall  had  descended 
during  the  night  and  razed  his  w^ork  to  the  ground. 
The  new  ferryman  had  vanished  too,  paid  off  and  dis- 
charged for  flagrant  drunkenness,  and  his  place  was 
taken  by  old  Billy  Daddo  the  Methodist — a  change 
so  comfortable  and  (when  you  come  to  think  of  it) 
a  choice  so  happy,  that  the  villagers,  after  the  shock 
of  surprise,  could  hardly  believe  they  had  not  sug- 
gested it.  If  they  did  not  quite  forget  jSTicky  and 
his  sorrows — if  in  place  of  ISTicky's  pagan  chatter  they 
listened  to  Billy's  earnest,  gentle  discourse,  and  might 
hardly  cross  to  meal  or  market  without  being  re- 
minded of  God — why,  after  all,  the  word  of  God  was 
good  hearing,  and  everyone  ought  to  take  an  interest 
in  it.  Stop  your  ears  for  a  moment,  and  you  could 
almost  believe  'twas  Xicky  come  back  to  life  again. 
Nobody  could  deny  the  man  was  cheerful  and  civil. 
He  rowed  a  stroke,  too,  amazingly  like  Nicky's. 

As  for  Rosewarne,  in  the  revulsion  of  their  fears 
they  began  to  despise  him.  They  had  done  better  to 
pity  him. 

Across  the  water,  in  her  lodging  in  the  Widows' 

369 


SHINING    FERRY 

Houses,  Hester  found  work  to  be  done  which,  to  her 
surprise,  kept  her  busier  tluin  she  had  ever  been  in 
her  life  before — so  busy  that  the  quiet  quadrangle 
seemed  to  hold  no  room  for  news  of  the  world  without. 
She  found  that,  if  she  were  to  satisfy  her  conscience 
in  the  service  of  these  old  women,  she  could  seldom 
save  more  than  an  hour's  leisure  from  the  short  spring 
days ;  and  in  that  hour  maybe  Sir  George  would  call 
with  his  plans,  or  she  would  put  on  her  bonnet  and 
walk  down  the  hill  for  a  call  on  the  Bennys  and  a 
chat  with  Nuncey.  But  oftener  it  was  Nuncey  who 
came  for  a  gossip;  Nuncey  having  sold  her  cart  and 
retired  from  business. 

Spring  had  come.  Within  the  almshouse  quad- 
rangle, around  the  leaden  pump,  the  daffodils  were 
in  flower  and  the  tuli])  buds  swelling.  A  blast  from 
the  first  of  those  golden  trumpets  could  hardly  have 
startled  her  more  than  did  her  first  sight  of  it  flaunt- 
ing in  the  sun.    It  had  stolen  upon  her  like  a  thief. 

"  A  letter  for  you,  Mrs.  Trevarthen  !  " 
The  postman,  as  he  crossed  the  quadrangle  to  the 
Matron's  door,  glanced  uj)  and  spied  Mrs.  Trevarthen 
bending  over  a  wash-tul)  in  tlic  widows'  gallery.  He 
pulled  a  letter  from  his  jiocket  and  held  it  aloft 
gaily. 

"  I'll  run  up  the  steps  witli  it  if  you  can't  reach." 

370 


BUT    TOM    CAN    WKITE 


"  AT. 


No  need  to  trouble  you,  my  dear,  if  you'll  wait 
a  moment." 

Mrs.  Ti'cvarthen  dried  her  hands  in  her  coarse 
apron,  leaned  over  the  balustrade,  and  just  contrived 
to  reach  the  letter  with  her  finger-tips.  They  were 
bleached  with  soap  and  warm  water,  and  they  trem- 
bled a  little. 

"  'Tis  from  your  son  Tom,  I  reckon,"  said  the 
postman,  while  she  examined  the  envelope.  "  It's 
from  Tom,  I  reckon.  Foreign  paper  and  the  Quebec 
postmark." 

"  From  Tom  ?  O'  course  'tis  from  Tom !  Get 
along  with  'ee  do  !  What  other  man  would  be  writing 
to  me  at  my  time  o'  life  ?  " 

The  postman  walked  on,  laughing.  Mrs.  Trevar- 
then  stood  for  some  while  irresolute,  holding  the  en- 
velope between  finger  and  thumb,  and  glancing  from 
it  to  a  closed  door  at  the  back  of  the  gallery.  A 
slant  low  sun-ray  almost  reached  to  the  threshold, 
and  was  cut  short  there  by  the  shadow  of  the  gallery 
eaves. 

"Best  not  disturl)  her,  I  s'pose,"  said  the  old 
woman,  with  a  sigh.  She  laid  the  letter  down,  but 
very  reluctantly,  Ix'side  the  wash-tub,  and  plunged 
both  hands  among  the  suds  again.  ^'  Quebec !  "  The 
word  recalled  a  silly  old  song  of  the  sailors ;  she  had 
heard  her  boy  hum  it  again  and  a,2;ain — 

37 


o^i 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  Was  you  ever  to  Quebec, 

Bonny  lassie,  bonny  lassie? 
Was  you  ever  to  Quebec, 
Rousing  timber  over  the  deck  " — 

A  door  opened  at  the  end  of  the  gallery,  and 
Hester  came  through. 

"  Good-morning,  Mrs.  Trevarthen  !  " 

"  'Mornin',  my  dear." 

These  two  were  friends  now  on  the  common 
ground  of  nursing  Aunt  Butson,  who  had  been  bed- 
ridden almost  from  the  day  of  her  admission  to  the 
almshouse,  her  gaunt  frame  twisted  with  dire  rheu- 
matics, 

Hester,  arriving  to  take  up  her  duties  and  find- 
ing Mrs.  Trevarthen  outworn  with  nursing,  had 
packed  her  off  to  rest  and  taken  lier  place  by  the 
invalid's  bedside.  In  this  service  she  had  been 
faithful  ever  since;  and  it  was  no  light  one,  for 
affliction  did  not  chasten  Mrs.  Butson's  caustic 
tongue. 

"  Is  she  still  sleeping  ?  "  Hester  glanced  at  the 
door. 

"  Ay,  ever  since  you  left.  Her  pains  have  wore 
her  out,  belike.  A  terrible  night !  Why  didn'  you 
call  me  sooner  ?  " 

"  You  have  a  letter,  I  see." 

Mrs.  Trevarthen  nodded,  obviously  embarrassed. 

372 


BUT    TOM    CAN    WRITE 

"  Keeping  it  for  licr,  I  was,"  she  explained.  "  Slio 
do  dearly  like  to  look  my  letters  over.  She  gets  none 
of  her  own,  von  see." 

But  Hester  was  not  deceived,  having  observed 
(without  appearing  to  detect  it)  Mrs.  Trevarthen's 
difficulty  with  the  written  instructions  on  the  medi- 
cine bottles. 

"  But  she  will  not  wake  for  some  time,  we'll  hope ; 
and  you  haven't  even  broken  the  seal !  If  you  would 
like  me  to  read  it  to  you — it  would  save  your  eyes ; 
and  I  am  very  discreet — really  I  am." 

Mrs.  Trevarthen  hesitated.  "  My  eyes  be  bad, 
sure  enough,"  she  said,  weakening.  "  But  you 
mustn't  blame  me  if  you  come  across  a  word  or  two 
you  don't  like." 

"  I  shall  remember  no  more  of  it  than  you  choose," 
said  Hester,  slightly  puzzled. 

"  My  Tom  han't  ever  said  a  word  agen'  you,  and 
the  odds  are  he'll  say  nothing  now.  Still,  there's  the 
chance,  and  you  can't  rightly  blame  him." 

"  Tom  ?  "     Hester's  eyes  opened  wide. 

"  I  know  my  own  ]x)y's  writing,  I  should  hope !  " 
said  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  with  pardonable  pride.  "  And 
good  writing  it  is.  Sally  Butson  says  she  never 
taught  a  boy  whose  hand  did  her  more  credit.  But 
what's  the  matter  ?  You'm  as  pale  as  a  sheet  al- 
most !  " 

373 


SHINING    FEREY 

"  I — I  didn't  know  " —  stammered  Hester,  and 
checked  herself. 

"  You've  been  over-tiring  yourself,  and  to-niglit 
you'll  just  go  off  to  bed  early  and  leave  the  nursing 
to  me.  What  didn't  you  know?  That  Tom  was  a 
scholar  ?  A  handsome  scholar  he'd  have  been,  but  for 
going  to  sea  early  when  his  father  died.  I  wonder 
sometimes  if  he  worries  over  it  and  the  chances  he 
missed.  But  Quebec's  the  postmark;  and  that  means 
he's  right  and  safe,  thank  the  Lord !  I  don't  fret 
so  long  as  he's  aboard  a  well-found  ship.  'Twas  his 
signing  aboard  the  One-and-All — '  Rosewarne's  cof- 
fin,' they  call  her— that  nigh  broke  me.  He  didn' 
let  me  know  till  two  nights  afore  he  sailed.  '  Beggars 
can't  be  choosers,'  he  said ;  and  afterwards  I  found 
out  from  Peter  Benny  that  he'd  covered  his  poor  body 
with  tattoo  marks — his  body  that  I've  a-washed  hun- 
dreds o'  times,  and  loved  to  feel  his  legs  kickin'  agen' 
me.  Beautiful  skin  he  had  as  a  child ;  soft  as  satin 
the  feel  of  it,  and  not  a  blemish  anywhere.  'Tis  hard 
to  think  of  it  criss-crossed  with  them  nasty  marks. 
Ihit  there!  Thank  the  Lord  God  he's  safe,  this 
passage !  Read  me  what  he  says,  there's  a  kind  soul ; 
but  you'll  have  to  bear  a  child  afore  you  know  what 
I've  a-been  going  through  \vi'  that  letter  starin'  me 
in  the  face." 

Hester,  resting  a  shoulder  against  one  of  the  oaken 

374 


BUT    TOM   CAN   WEITE 

pillars  of  the  gallery,  where  the  sunshine  touched  her 
face  with  colour,  broke  the  seal. 

"  Here  is  an  enclosure — a  post-office  order  for 
fifty  shillings." 

"  God  bless  him !  'tis  welcome ;  though  I  could 
have  made  shift  at  a  pinch.  Peter  Benny  manages 
these  things  for  me,"  said  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  folding 
it  lengthwise  and  inserting  it  between  the  buttons  of 
her  bodice.  What  she  meant  was  that  Mr.  Benny  as 
a  rule  attested  her  mark  and  brought  her  the  money 
from  the  post-office.  But  Hester,  busy  with  her  own 
thoughts,  scarcely  heard.  Why  had  Tom  Trevarthen 
pretended  to  her  that  he  could  not  write  ?  Why  had 
he  trapped  her  into  writing  a  letter  for  him — and 
to  this  Harriet,  whoever  she  might  be  ?  She  unfolded 
the  letter  and  read,  in  bold,  clear  penmanship — 

Quebec,  lith  February  1872. 
"My  dear  Mother, — This  is  to  enclose  what  I  can, 
and  to  tell  you  we  arrived  yesterday  after  a  fair  passage,  and 
dropped  hook  in  the  Basin  below  Quebec  ;  all  on  board  well 
and  hearty,  including  Miss  Myra  and  Master  Clem.  But 
between  ourselves  the  old  man  won't  last  many  more  trips. 
His  head  is  weakening,  and  Mrs.  Purchase,  though  she 
won't  own  to  it,  is  fairly  worn  with  watching  him.  We 
hadn't  scarcely  cleared  the  Channel  before  we  ran  into 
dirty  weather,  with  tlie  wind  W.  to  N.-W.  and  rising.  We 
looked,  of  course,  for  the  old  man  to  shorten  sail  and  send 
her  along  easy,  he  being  noted  for  caution.  But  not  a  bit 
of  it.     The  second  day  out  he  comes  forward  to  me,  that 

375 


SHINING    FERKY 

stood  cocking  an  eye  aloft  and  waiting  for  him  to  speak, 
and  says  he,  'Tiiis  is  not  at  all  what  I  expected,  but  the 
Lord  will  provide;'  and  with  that  he  pulled  out  a  Bible 
from  his  pocket  and  tapped  it,  looking  at  me  very  knowing, 
and  so  walked  aft  and  shut  himself  up  in  his  cabin.  Not 
another  glimpse  did  we  get  of  him  for  thirty-six  hours,  and 
no  message  on  earth  could  fetch  him  up  or  persuade  him 
to  let  us  take  a  stitch  off  her.  As  for  old  Hewitt,  that 
has  been  mate  of  her  these  fifteen  years,  and  forgotten  all  he 
ever  knew,  except  to  do  what  he's  told,  not  a  rag  would  he 
shift  on  his  own  responsibility.  There  she  was,  with  a  new 
foretop-sail  never  stretched  before,  and  almost  all  her  can- 
vas less  than  two  years  old,  playing  the  mischief  with  it 
all,  let  alone  putting  the  ship  in  danger.  At  last,  when  she 
was  fairly  smothering  herself  and  her  top  masts  bending 
like  whips,  up  he  pops,  Bible  in  hand,  and  says  he,  with  a 
look  aloft  and  around,  like  a  man  more  hurt  than  angry, 
'  Heavenly  Father,  this  won't  do  !  This  here's  a  pretty 
state  of  things.  Heavenly  Father  ! '  When  the  boys  had 
eased  her  down  a  bit — at  the  risk  of  their  lives  it  was— and 
the  old  man  had  disappeared  below  again,  Mrs.  Purchase 
came  crawling  aft  to  me  in  the  wheelhouse,  wet  as  a 
drowned  rat  ;  and  there  we  had  a  talk — very  confidential, 
though  'twas  mostly  carried  on  by  shouting.  The  upshot 
was,  she  couldn't  trust  the  old  man's  head.  In  his  best 
days  he'd  have  threaded  the  Virtuous  Lady  through  a 
needle,  and  was  capable  yet ;  but  with  this  craze  upon  him 
he  was  just  as  capable  of  casting  the  sliip  away  for  the  fun 
of  it.  As  for  Hewitt,  we  found  out  his  quality  in  the  fogs 
off  the  Banks,  when  the  skipper  struck  work  again  and  let 
the  dead-reckoning  go  to  glory,  telling  us  to  consider  the 
lilies.  Hewitt  took  it  over,  and  in  two  days  had  worked 
us  south  of  our  course  by  eighty  odd  miles.     By  the  Lord's 

376 


BUT    TOM    CAN    WRITE 

mercy,  on  the  third  day  we  could  take  our  bearings,  and  so 
hauled  up  and  fetch  the  Gulf ;  and  here  we  are  right  and 
tight,  and  Mrs.  Purchase  gone  ashore  to  ship  a  navigating 
officer  for  the  passage  home.  But  mates'  certificates  don't 
run  clieap  in  these  parts,  as  they  do  on  Tower  Hill,  and  the 
pilots  tell  me  she'll  be  lucky  if  she  gets  what  she  wants  for 
love  or  money. 

"Dear  mother,  remember  me  to  all  the  folks,  and  give 
my  love  to  Granny  Butson.  Master  Clem  is  putting  on 
flesh  wonderful,  and  I  reckon  the  pair  of  them  are  in  no 
hurry  to  get  home  to  school. 

"Talking  of  that,  I  would  like  to  hear  how  the  school 
gets  along,  and  Miss  Marvin" — 

"  Eh  ?  "  Mrs.  Trevarthen  interrupted.  "  Why, 
come  to  think  of  it,  he's  never  heard  of  your  coming 
to  look  after  us^  but  reckons  you'm  still  at  the  school- 
mistressing.  And  you  standing  there  and  reading  out 
his  very  words  !    I  call  that  a  proj^er  joke." 

" — and  that  limb  of  ugliness,  Rosewarne.  But  by  the 
time  this  reaches  you  we  shall  be  loaded  and  ready  for  sail- 
ing ;  so  no  news  can  I  hear  till  I  get  home,  and  perhaps  it  is 
lucky.  Good-bye  now.  If  the  world  went  right,  it  is  not 
you  would  be  living  in  the  Widows'  Houses,  nor  I  that 
would  be  finding  it  hard  to  forgive  folks  ;  but  as  Nicky 
Vro  used  to  say,  'Must  thank  the  Lord,  I  reckon,  that  we 
be  so  well  as  we  be. '  No  more  at  present  from  your  loving 
son,  Tom." 

"  I  don't  understand  the  tail-end  o'  that,"  said 
Mrs.    Trevarthen.      "  Woidd   you  .  mind    reading   it 

O  I   i 


SHII^ING   FERRY 

over  again,  my  dear  ? — Well,  well,  you  needn't  to  flush 
np  so^  that  he  finds  it  hard  to  forgive  folks.  Meanin' 
you,  d'ee  think  ?  He  don't  speak  unkindly  of  any  but 
Rosewarne ;  and  I  don't  mind  that  I've  heard  news 
of  that  varmint  for  a  month  past.    Have  you  ?  " 

Hester  did  not  answer — scarcely  even  heard.  The 
hand  in  which  she  held  the  letter  fell  limp  at  her 
side  as  she  stood  gazing  across  the  quadrangle  facing 
the  sun,  hut  with  a  soft,  new-born  light  in  her  eyes, 
that  did  not  owe  its  kindling  there.  Why  had  he 
played  this  trick  on  her  ?  She  could  not  explain,  and 
yet  she  understood.  For  her  he  had  meant  that 
letter — yes,  she  was  sure  of  it !  To  her,  as  though 
for  another,  he  had  spoken  those  Avords — she  remem- 
bered every  one  of  them.  He  had  not  dared  to  speak 
directly.  And  he  had  made  her  write  them  down. 
Foolish  boy  that  he  was,  he  had  been  cunning.  Did 
she  forgive  him  ?  She  could  not  help  forgiving ;  but 
it  was  foolish — foolish  ! 

She  put  on  her  bonnet  that  evening  and  walked 
down  to  see  Nuncey  and  have  a  talk  with  her;  not 
to  confide  her  secret,  but  simply  because  her  elate 
spirit  craved  for  a  talk. 

Greatly  to  her  disappointment,  Nuncey  was  out ; 
nor  could  Mrs.  Benny  tell  where  the  girl  had  gone, 
unless  (hazarding  a  guess)  she  had  crossed  the  ferry 
to  her  father's  fine  new  office,  to  discuss  fittings  and 

378 


BUT    TOM    CAj!^    WRITE 

furniture.  I^uncey  had  dropped  into  the  habit,  since 
the  days  began  to  lengthen,  of  crossing  the  ferry  after 
tea-time. 

Hester  decided  to  walk  as  far  as  the  Passage 
Slip  on  the  chance  of  meeting  her.  Somewhat  to 
her  surprise,  as  she  passed  Broad  Quay  she  almost 
ran  into  Master  Calvin  Rosewarne,  idling  there  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  and  apparently  at  a  loose 
end. 

"  Calvin !  Whj,  whatever  are  you  doing  here, 
on  this  side  of  the  water  ?  " 

The  boy — he  had  not  the  manners  to  take  off 
his  cap — eyed  her  for  a  moment  with  an  air  half 
suspicious  and  half  defiant.  "  That's  telling,"  he 
answered  darkly,  and  added,  after  a  pause,  "  Were 
you  looking  for  anyone  ?  " 

"  I  was  hoping  to  meet  Nuncey  Benny.  She  has 
gone  across  to  her  father's  new  office — or  so  Mrs. 
Benny  thinks." 

The  boy  grinned.  "  She  won't  be  coming  this 
way  just  yet,  and  she's  not  at  the  new  office.  But 
I'll  tell  you  where  to  find  her,  if  you'll  let  me  come 
along  with  you." 

On  their  way  to  the  ferry  he  looked  up  once  or 
twice  askance  at  her,  as  if  half-minded  to  speak;  but 
it  was  not  until  old  Daddo  had  landed  them  on  the 
farther  shore  that  he  seemed  to  find  his  tongue, 

379 


SHINING    FERKY 

"  Look  here,"  lie  said  abruptly,  halting  in  the 
roadway,  and  regarding  her  from  nnder  lowering 
hrows ;  "  the  last  time  yon  took  nie  in  lessons  yon  told 
nic  to  think  less  of  myself  and  more  of  other  people. 
Didn't  yon,  now  ?  " 

"  Well  ? "  said  Hester,  preoccupied,  dindy  re- 
membering that  talk. 

"  Well,  you  seemed  to  forget  your  own  teaching 
pretty  easily  when  you  walked  out  of  Hall  and  left 
me  there  on  the  stream.  Nice  company  you  left  me 
to,  didn't, you  ?  " 

"  Your  father  " —  began  Hester  lamely. 

"  We  won't  talk  of  Dad.  He's  altered— T  don't 
know  how.  I  can't  get  on  with  him,  though  he's  the 
only  person  hereabouts  that  don't  hate  me ;  I'll  give 
him  ihat  credit.  But  I  ask  you,  wasn't  it  pretty 
rough  on  a  chap  to  haul  him  over  the  coals  for  selfish- 
ness, and  then  march  out  and  leave  him  without  an- 
other thought  ?     And  that's  what  you  did." 

"  I  am  sorry."  Hester's  conscience  accused  her, 
and  she  was  contrite.  The  child  must  have  found 
life  desperately  dull. 

"  I  forgive  you,"  said  Master  Calvin,  magnani- 
mously, and  resumed  his  walk.  "  I  forgive  you  on 
condition  you'll  do  a  small  job  for  me.  When  Myra 
turns  up  again — and  sooner  or  later  she'll  turn  up — 
I  want  you  to  give  her  a  message." 

380 


BUT    TOM    CAN    WRITE 

"  Very  well ;  but  why  not  give  it  yourself  ?  " 

"  Slie  don't  speak  to  me,  you  know,"  he  answered, 
stooping  to  pick  up  a  stone  and  bowl  it  down  the  hill. 
It  scattered  a  trio  of  ducks,  gathered  a  few  yards 
below  and  cluttering  with  their  bills  in  the  village 
stream,  and  he  laughed  as  they  waddled  off  in  panic. 
"  That's  how  I'm  left  to  amuse  myself,"  he  said  after 
a  moment  apologetically,  but  again  half  defiantly. 
"  You've  to  tell  Myra,"  he  went  on,  picking  up  an- 
other stone,  eyeing  for  an  aim,  and  dropping  it,  "  that 
I  like  her  pluck,  but  she  needn't  have  been  in  such 
a  hurry  to  teach  the  head  of  the  family.  Will  you 
remember  that  ?  " 

"  I  will,  although  I  don't  know  what  you  mean 
by  it." 

"  Never  you  mind,  but  take  her  that  message ; 
Myra  will  understand." 

He  stepped  ahead  a  few  paces,  as  if  unwilling  to 
be  questioned  further.  They  passed  the  gate  of  Hall. 
Beyond  it,  at  the  foot  of  the  Jacob's  Ladder  leading 
up  to  Parc-an-IIal,  he  whispered  to  her  to  halt, 
climbed  with  great  caution,  and  disappeared  behind 
the  hedge  of  the  great  meadow;  but  by  and  by  he 
came  stealing  back  and  beckoned  to  her. 

"  It's  all  right,"  he  whisj^ered ;  "  only  step 
softlv." 

Keeping  close  alongside  the  lower  hedge,  he  led 

381 


SHINING    FERRY 

the  way  towards  the  great  rick  at  the  far  corner  of 
tiie  field.  As  they  drew  close  to  it  he  caught  hor 
arm  and  i)iilled  her  aside,  pointing  to  her  shadow, 
which  the  level  sun  had  all  but  thrown  beyond  the 
rick. 

"  But  what  is  the  meaning  of  it  ?  " 

The  question  was  on  her  lips  when  her  ear  cauglit 
the  note  of  a  voice — N  uncey's  voice — and  these  words, 
low,  and  yet  distinct — 

"  At  the  call  '  Attention !  '  the  whole  body  and 
head  must  be  held  erect,  the  chin  slightly  dropped, 
chest  well  open,  shoulders  square  to  the  front,  eyes 
looking  straight  forward.  The  arms  must  hang  easily, 
with  fingers  and  thumbs  straight,  close  to  one  another 
and  touching  the  thighs;  the  feet  turned  out  at  right 
angles  or  nearly.  Now,  please — 'Tention  !  " — (a 
pause) — "You  break  my  heart,  you  do!  Eyes,  I 
said,  looking  slraiglit  forward;  and  the  weight  of  the 
body  ought  to  rest  on  the  front  part  of  the  foot — not 
tilted  back  on  your  heels  and  looking  like  a  china  cat 
in  a  thunderstorm.     Now  try  again,  that's  a  dear !  " 

Hester  gazed  around  wildly  at  Calvin,  who  was 
twisting  himself  in  silent  contortions  of  mirth. 

"Take  a  peep!"  he  gasped.  "  Slie's  courting 
Archelaus  Libby,   and   teaching  him   to  look   like  a 


man." 


"  You  odious  child  !  "     Hester,   nshnmcd  of  hor 

382 


BUT    TOM    CAN"   WRITE 

life  to  have  been  trapped  into  eavesdropping,  and  yet 
doubting  her  ears,  strode  past  the  edge  of  the  rick  and 
into  full  view. 

Nuncey  drew  back  with  a  cry. 

"  Hester  Marvin !  " 

Hester's  eyes  travelled  past  her  and  rested  on 
Archelaus.  He,  rigid  at  attention,  caught  and  held 
there  spellbound,  merely  rolled  a  pair  of  agonized 
eyes. 

"  Nuncey  !  Archelaus  !  What  on  earth  are  you 
two  doing  ?  " 

"  Learnin'  him  to  be  a  Volunteer,  be  sure !  "  an- 
swered Nuncey,  her  face  the  colour  of  a  peony.  After 
an  instant  she  dropped  her  eyes,  her  cheeks  confessing 
the  truth. 

"  But — but  why  ?  "  Hester  stared  from  one  to 
the  other. 

"  If  he'd  only  be  like  other  men !  "  protested 
Nuncey. 

Hester  ran  to  her  with  a  happy  laugh.  "  But  you 
wouldn't  wish  him  like  other  men !  " 

"  I  do,  and  I  don't."  Nuncey  eluded  her  embrace, 
having  caught  the  sound  of  ribald  laughter  on  the 
other  side  of  the  rick.  Darting  around,  she  was  in 
time  to  catch  Master  Calvin  two  cuffs,  right  and  left, 
upon  the  ears.  He  broke  for  the  gate  and  she  pur- 
sued, but  presently  returned  breathless. 

383 


SHINING    FERIIY 


i(  ^f 


'Tis  wonderful  to  me,"  she  said,  eyeing  Arche- 
lans  critically  and  sternly,  "  how  ever  I  come  to  listen 
to  him.  But  he  softened  me  by  talking  about  you. 
He's  a  deal  more  clever  than  he  seems,  and  1  believe 
at  this  moment  he  likes  you  best." 

"  I  don't !  "  said  Archelaus  firmly;  "  bogging  your 
pardon,  Miss  Marvin." 

"  I  am  sure  you  don't,"  laughed  Hester. 

"  Well,  anyway,  I'll  have  to  tell  father  now,"  said 
Nuncey ;  "  for  that  imp  of  a  boy  will  be  putting  it  all 
round  the  parish." 

But  here  Archelaus  asserted  himself.  "  That's 
my  business,"  he  said  quietly.  "  It  isn't  any  man's 
'  yes  '  or  '  no  '  I'm  afraid  of.  Miss  Marvin,  having 
stood  up  to  /ler." 


384 


CHAPTEK  XXVI 


MESSENGERS 


In  Cornwall,  thej  say,  the  cuckoo  brings  a  gale 
of  wind  with  him ;  and  of  all  gales  in  the  year  this 
is  the  one  most  dreaded  by  gardeners  and  cidermen, 
for  it  catches  the  fruit  trees  in  the  height  of  their 
blossoming  season,  and  in  its  short  rage  wrecks  a 
whole  year's  promise. 

Such  a  gale  overtook  the  Virtuous  Lady,  home- 
ward bound,  in  mid- Atlantic.  For  two  days  and  a 
night  she  ran  before  it ;  but  this  of  course  is  a  sea- 
man's phrase,  and  actually,  fast  as  the  wind  hurled 
her  forward,  she  lagged  back  against  it  until  she 
wallowed  in  its  wake,  and  her  crew  gave  thanks  and 
crept  below  to  their  bunks,  too  dog-weary  to  put  off 
their  sodden  clothes. 

The  gale  passed  on  and  struck  our  south-western 
coast,  devastating  the  orchards  of  Cornwall  and  Devon 
and  carpeting  them  with  unborn  fruit — dulcis  vitce 
exsortes.  Amid  this  unthrifty  waste  and  hard  by, 
off  Berry  Head,  the  schooner  One-and-AU  foundered 
and  went  down,  not  prematurely. 

385 


SHINING   FERRY 

Foreseeing  the  end,  licr  master  had  given  orders 
to  lower  the  whale-boat.  The  schooner  might  he 
ai)i)le-rotten,  as  her  crew  declared,  but  she  carried  a 
whale-boat  which  had  inspired  confidence  for  years 
and  induced  many  a  hesitating  hand  to  signi  articles ; 
a  seaworthy  boat,  to  l)(>gin  with,  and  by  her  owner's 
and  master's  care  made  as  nearly  unsinkable  as  might 
be,  cork-fendered,  fitted  bow  and  stern  with  air  tanks, 
well  fonnd  in  all  her  gear.  Woe  betide  the  seaman 
who  abstracted  an  inch  of  rope  from  her  to  patch 
np  the  schooner's  crazy  rigging,  or  who  left  a  life- 
belt lying  loose  around  the  deck  or  a  rowlock  un- 
restored  to  its  due  place  after  the  weekly  scrub-down ! 

The  crew,  then,  launched  the  boat — half  filling 
her  in  the  ])rocess — and,  tumbling  in,  pulled  for  the 
lee  of  the  high  land  between  Berry  Head  and  Brix- 
ham.  The  master  took  the  helm.  He  was  steering 
without  one  backward  look  at  the  abandoned  ship, 
when  the  oarsmen  ceased  pulling,  all  together,  with 
a  cry  of  dismay. 

On  the  schooner's  deck  stood  a  child,  waving  his 
arms  despairingly. 

How  he  came  there  they  could  not  tell,  nor  who 
he  was.  The  master,  not  understanding  their  outcry, 
cursed  and  shouted  to  them  to  pull  on.  But  already 
the  starboard  oars  were  holding  water  and  the  bow- 
man bringing  her  around  head-to-sea. 

38G 


MESSENGERS 

"  Good  Lord  deliver  us  !  " 

The  master  carried  a  pair  of  binoculars  slung  in 
a  leathern  case  about  his  shoulders  inside  his  oilskin 
coat.  They  had  been  given  to  him  by  public  sub- 
scription many  years  before,  with  a  purse  of  gold, 
as  a  reward  for  saving  life  at  sea.  Since  then  he 
had  forgotten  in  whisky-drinking  and  money-getting 
all  the  generous  courage  of  his  youth.  His  business 
for  many  years  had  been  to  play  with  human  life  for 
his  own  and  his  owner's  profit,  with  no  care  but  to  keep 
on  the  right  side  of  the  law.  The  noble  impulse  which 
had  earned  him  this  testimonial  was  dead  within  him  ; 
to  recover  it  he  must  have  been  born  again.  He 
might  even,  by  keeping  his  pumps  going  and  facing 
out  the  peril  for  another  couple  of  hours,  have  run 
the  One-and-All  into  Torbay  and  saved  her;  but  he 
had  not  wanted  to  save  her.  Nevertheless,  when  he 
had  run  ddwn  to  collect  his  few  treasures  from  the 
cabin,  these  binoculars  were  his  first  and  chiefest 
thought,  for  they  attached  him  to  something  in  his 
base  career  which  had  been  noble.  So  careful  was  he, 
so  fearful  of  facing  eternity  and  judgment — if  drown 
he  must — without  them,  that,  although  the  tim(>  was 
short  and  the  danger  instant,  and  tlio  man  by  tliis 
time  a  coward,  he  had  stri])i)e(l  off  oilskin  coat  and 
pea-jacket  to  indue'  them  again  and  button  them  over 
his  treasure. 

387 


SHINING    FERRY 

Yet  either  his  hands  were  inniih  or  the  sea-water 
had  penetrated  these  wraps  and  damped  the  tag  of 
the  leathern  case,  making  it  difficnlt  to  open.  When 
at  length  he  tugged  th(>  l)inocnlars  free  and  sighted 
them,  it  was  to  catch  one  glimpse,  and  the  last,  of  the 
child  waving  from  the  bulwarks. 

"  Good  Lord  deliver  ns !  " 

A  high-crested  wave  l)l()ttcd  ont  the  schooner's 
hull.  She  seemed  to  sink  behind  it,  almost  to  mid- 
way of  her  main  shrouds.  She  would  lift  again  into 
sight  as  that  terrible  wave  went  by — 

But  she  did  not.  The  wave  went  by,  but  no  por- 
tion of  her  hull  appeared.  With  a  slow  lurch  forward 
she  was  gone,  and  the  seas  ran  over  her  as  though  she 
and  her  iniquity  had  never  been. 

In  that  one  glimpse  through  his  binoculars  the 
master,  and  he  alone  of  the  crew,  had  recognised  the 
child — Calvin  Rosewarne,  his  owner's  son. 

To  their  credit,  the  men  pulled  back  for  the  spot 
where  the  One-and-AU  had  gone  down.  Not  till  an 
hour's  battling  had  taught  them  the  hopelessness  of 
a  search  hopeless  from  the  first  did  they  turn  the 
boat  and  head  again  for  Brixham. 

The  news,  telegraphed  from  Brixham,  began  to 
spread  through  Troy  soon  after  midday.     Since  the 

388 


MESSENGERS 

law  allowed  it,  over-insurance  was  accepted  by  public 
opinion  in  the  port  almost  as  a  matter  of  ordinary 
business ;  almost,  but  not  quite.  In  liis  heart  every 
citizen  knew  it  to  be  damnable,  and  voices  had  been 
raised  in  public  calling  it  damnable.  Men  and  women 
who  would  have  risked  nothing  to  amend  the  law  so 
far  felt  the  public  conscience  agreeing  with  their  own 
that  they  talked  freely  of  Rosewarne's  punishment 
as  a  judgment  of  God.  Folks  in  the  street  canvassed 
the  news,  insensibly  sinking  their  voices  as  they  stared 
across  the  water  at  the  elm  trees  of  Hall.  Behind 
those  elms  lay  a  house,  and  within  that  house  would 
be  sitting  a  man  overwhelmed  by  God's  vengeance. 

In  the  late  afternoon  a  messenger  knocked  at 
Hester's  door  with  a  letter.  It  was  brought  to  her 
where  she  sat,  with  Mrs.  Trevarthen,  by  Aunt  But- 
son's  bedside,  and  it  said — 

"I  wish  to  speak  "vvith   you  this  evening,  if   you  are 

willing. — S.   ROSEWARNE.  " 

She  rose  at  once,  silently,  with  a  glance  at  her 
two  companions.  They  had  not  spoken  since  close 
upon  an  hour.  When  first  the  news  came  the  old 
woman  on  the  bed  had  raised  herself  upon  her  elbow, 
struggled  a  moment  for  utterance,  and  burst  into  a 
psean  of  triumphant  hatred,  horrible  to  hear.  Mrs. 
Trevarthen  sat  like  one  stunned.     '^  Hush  'ee,  Sarah ! 

389 


SlIINIXG   FERRY 

Hush  'ee,  that's  a  good  soul !  "  she  murmured  once 
and  again  in  feeble  protest.  At  leng-th  Hester,  unable 
to  endure  it  longer,  liad  risen,  taken  the  invalid  by 
one  shoulder  and  forced  her  gently  back  upon  the 
})illow. 

"  Tell  me  to  go,"  she  said,  "  and  I  will  leave  you 
and  not  return.  But  to  more  of  this  I  will  not  listen. 
I  believed  you  an  ill-used  woman ;  but  you  are  far 
less  wronged  than  wicked  if  you  can  rejoice  in  the 
death  of  a  child." 

Since  then  the  invalid  had  lain  quiet,  staring  up 
at  the  ceiling.  She  did  not  know — nor  did  Mrs. 
Trevarthen  know — whose  letter  Hester  held  in  her 
hand.  But  now,  as  Hester  moved  towards  the  door, 
a  weak  voice  from  the  bed  entreated  her — 

"  You  won't  leave  me !  I  didn't  mean  tliat  about 
the  cliild— I  didn't,  really  !  " 

"  She  didn't  mean  it,"  echoed  Mrs.  Trevarthen. 

"  I  know — I  know,"  said  Hester,  and  stretched 
out  both  arms  in  sudden  weariness,  almost  despair. 
"  But  oh !  why  in  this  world  of  burdens  can  we  not 
cast  away  hate,  the  worst  and  wilfullest  ?  " 

It  seemed  to  her  that  in  lier  own  mind  during 
these  few  weeks  a  light  had  been  steadily  growing, 
illuminating  many  things  she  had  been  wont  to  puzzle 
over  or  habitually  to  pass  by  as  teasing  and  obscure. 
She  saw  the  whole  world  constructed  on  one  purpose, 

390 


MESSENGERS 

that  all  living  creatures  should  love  and  help  one 
another  to  be  happy.  Even  such  a  man  as  Rosewarne 
found  a  place  in  it,  as  one  to  he  pitied  because  he 
erred  against  this  light.  Yes,  and  even  the  death  of 
this  child  had  a  place  in  the  scheme,  since,  calling  for 
pity,  it  called  for  one  of  the  divinest  exercises  of  love. 
She  marvelled,  as  she  crossed  in  the  ferry-boat,  why 
the  passengers,  one  and  all,  discussed  it  as  a  direct 
visitation  upon  Rosewarne,  as  though  Rosewarne  had 
offended  against  some  agreement  in  which  they  and 
God  Almighty  stood  together,  and  they  had  left  the 
fellow  in  God's  hands  with  a  confidence  which  yet 
allowed  them  room  to  admire  the  dramatic  neatness 
of  His  methods.  She  longed  to  tell  them  that  they 
were  all  mistaken,  and  her  eyes  sought  old  Daddo's, 
who  alone  took  no  part  in  this  talk.  But  old  Daddo 
pulled  his  stroke  without  seeming  to  listen,  his  brow 
puckered  a  little,  his  eyes  bent  on  the  boat's  wake 
abstractedly  as  though  he  communed  with  an  in- 
ward vision. 

At  the  front  door  of  Hall  Susannah  met  her, 
white  and  tearful. 

"  I  heard  that  he'd  sent  for  you."  Susannah 
sank  her  voice  almost  to  a  whisper.  "  He's  in  the 
counting-house.     You  be'n't  afeard  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  be  afraid  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     He's  that  strange.     For  months 

391 


SHINING    FEERY 

now  he've  a-been  strange ;  bnt  for  two  da^'s  he've  a-sat 
there,  wi'out  food  or  drink,  and  the  door  locked  most 
of  the  time.  Not  for  worlds  would  I  step  into  that 
room  alone." 

"  For  two  days  ?  " 

"Ever  since  he  opened  the  poor  child's  letter; 
for  a  letter  there  was,  though  the  Lord  knows  what 
was  in  it.     Yon're  snre  yon  be'n't  afeard  ?  " 

Hester  stepped  past  her  and  throngh  the  great 
parlour,  and  tapped  gently  on  the  counting-house 
door.  Her  knock  was  answered  by  the  sound  of  a 
key  turning  in  the  lock,  and  Rosewarne  opened  to 
her. 

At  the  moment  she  could  not  see  his  face,  for  a 
lamp  on  the  writing-table  behind  silhouetted  him  in 
black  shadow.  Her  eyes  wandered  over  the  room's 
disarray,  and  all  her  senses  quailed  together  in  its 
exhausted  atmosphere. 

He  closed  the  door,  but  did  not  lock  it  again, 
motioned  her  to  a  chair,  and  dropped  heavily  into 
his  accustomed  seat  by  the  writing-table,  where  for 
a  while  his  fingers  played  nervously  with  the  scat- 
tered papers.  Now  by  the  lamplight  she  noted  the 
extreme  greyness  of  his  face  and  the  hard  brilliance 
of  his  eyes,  usually  so  dull  and  fish-like. 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  coming,"  he  began 
in  a  level,  almost  business-like  tone,  but  without  look- 

392 


MESSEXGEKS 

ing  up.  "  There  are  some  questions  I  want  to  ask — 
you  have  heard  the  news,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Everyone  has  heard.  I  am  sorry — so  sorry ! 
It  is  terrible." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he,  with  a  slight  inclination 
of  the  head,  as  though  acknowledging  some  remark 
of  small  and  ordinary  politeness.  "  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  see  this  ?  "  He  picked  up  a  crumpled 
sheet  of  notepaper,  smoothed  out  the  creases,  and 
handed  it  to  her.  Taking  it,  she  read  this,  written 
in  a  childish,  ill-formed  hand — 

"Dear  Father, — When  this  reaches  you  I  shall  be  at 
sea.  I  hope  you  won't  mind  very  nmch,  as  it  runs  in  the 
family,  and  some  of  those  that  done  it  have  turned  out  best. 
I  don't  get  any  good  staying  at  home.  I  love  you  and  you 
love  me,  but  nobody  else  does,  and  nobody  understands.  I 
thought  Miss  Marvin  understood,  but  she  went  away  and 
forgot.  Never  mind,  it  will  be  all  right  when  I  am  a  man. 
I  will  come  back,  for  you  nmstn't  think  I  don't  love  you.  — 
Your  affect,  son,  C.   Rosewarne.  " 

As  Hester  looked  up  she  found  Mr.  Samuel's  eyes 
fixed  on  her  for  the  first  time,  and  fixed  on  her 
curiously. 

"  You  don't  approve,  perhaps,  of  cousins  marry- 
ing ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

Was  the  man  mad,  as  Susannah  had  hinted  ? 

"  I — I  don't  understand  you,  Mr.  Rosewarne." 

393 


SHINING    FEERY 

"  Your  mother  had  an  only  sister — an  elder  sis- 
ter— who  went  (lilt  to  Doniiniea,  and  there  married  a 
common  soldier.     Did  von  know  this?" 

"  T  knew  that  my  niotliei-  luul  a  sister,  and  that 
there  had  been  some  disgrace.  My  father  never  spoke 
of  it,  and  my  motlier  died  when  I  was  very  yonng; 
bnt  in  some  way — as  children  do — I  came  to  know." 

"  I  thonght  yon  might  know  more,  bnt  it  does  not 
matter  now.  My  father  was  that  common  soldier, 
and  the  disgrace  did  not  lie  in  her  marrying  him. 
Before  the  marriage — I  have  a  copy  here  of  the  entry 
in  the  register — a  child  was  born.  Yes,  stare  at 
me  well,  Cousin  Hester^  stare  at  me,  your  cousin, 
though  born  in  bastardy !  " 

His  eyes  seemed  to  force  her  backward,  and  she 
leaned  back,  clasping  the  arms  of  her  chair. 

"  I  learnt  this  a  short  while  before  my  father 
died.  I  had  only  his  word  for  it — he  gave  me  no 
particulars ;  but  I  have  hunted  them  up,  and  he  told 
me  the  truth.  Knowing  them,  I  concealed  them  for 
the  sake  of  the  child  that  was  drowned  to-dav;  other- 
wise,  the  estate  being  entailed,  his  inheritance  would 
have  passed  to  Clem,  and  he  and  I  w-ere  interlopers. 
Are  you  one  of  those  who  believe  that  God  has  pun- 
ished me  by  drowning  my  son  ?  You  have  better 
grounds  than  the  rest  for  believing  it." 

"  JXo,"  said  Hester,  after  a  long  pause,  remem- 

304 


MESSENGERS 

bering  what  tliouglits  had  been  in  her  mind  as  slie 
crossed  the  ferry. 

"  Why  not  ?  " 

"  The  child  had  done  no  eviL  God  is  jnst,  or 
God  does  not  exist.  He  mnst  have  had  some  other 
purpose  than  to  punish  you." 

"  You  are  right.  He  may  have  used  that  purpose 
to  afflict  me  yet  the  more — though  I  don't  believe  it ; 
but  my  true  punishment — my  worse  punishment — • 
began  long  before.  Cousin,  cousin,  you  see  clearly ! 
How  often  might  you  have  helped  me  during  these 
months  I  have  been  in  hell !  Can  3'ou  think  how  a 
man  feels  who  is  afraid  of  himself  ?  No,  you  cannot ; 
but  I  say  to  you  there  is  no  worse  hell,  and  through 
that  hell  I  have  been  walking  since  the  day  I  went 
near  to  killing  Clem.  You  saved  me  that  once,  and 
then  you  turned  and  left  me.  I  wanted  you — no,  not 
to  marry  me !  When  a  man  fears  himself  he  thinks 
no  more  of  affection.  I  wanted  you,  I  craved  for 
you,  to  save  me — to  save  me  again  and  again,  and  as 
often  as  the  madness  mastered  me.  A  word  from  you 
would  have  made  me  docile  as  a  child.  I  should  have 
done  you  no  hurt.  On  your  walks  and  about  your 
lodging  at  night  I  have  dogged  you  for  that  word, 
afraid  to  show  myself,  afraid  to  knock  and  demand  it. 
By  this  time  I  had  discovered  you  were  my  cousin. 
'  Blood  is  thicker  than  water ' — over  and  over  I  told 

305 


SHINING    FERRY 

myself  this.  '  Sooner  or  later/  I  said,  '  the  voice  in 
our  blood  will  whisper  to  her,  and  she  will  turn 
and  help  my  need.'  Bnt  you  never  turned,  and  why? 
Because  you  were  in  love,  and  if  fear  is  selfish,  love  is 
selfish  too !  " 

He  paused  for  breath,  eyeing  her  with  a  gloomy, 
bitter  smile.  *'  Oh,  there's  no  harm  in  my  knowing 
your  secret,"  he  went  on.  ''  I'm  past  hating  Tom 
Trevarthen,  and  past  all  jealousy.  All  I  ever  asked 
was  that  he  should  spare  you  to  help  me — a  cup  of 
cold  Avater  for  a  tongue  in  hell ;  I  didn't  want  your 
love.  But  that's  where  the  selfishness  of  love  comes 
in.  It  can't  spare  even  what  it  doesn't  need  for  itself. 
It  wants  the  whole  world  to  be  happy ;  but  when 
the  unhappy  cry  to  it,  it  doesn't  hear." 

Hester  stood  up,  her  eyes  brimming.  "  You  are 
right,"  she  said,  "  I  did  not  hear.  I  never  guessed 
at  all.     Tell  me  now  that  I  can  help." 

"  It  is  too  late,"  he  answered.  "  I  no  longer  want 
your  help." 

"  Surely  to-day,  if  ever,  you  need  your  neigh- 
bours' pity  and  their  prayers  ?  " 

He  laughed  aloud.  "  That  shows  how  little  you 
understand  !  You  and  my  precious  neighbours  think 
of  me  as  brooding  here,  mourning  for  my  lost  boy. 
I  tell  you  I  am  glad- — yes,  glad  !  This  is  no  part  of 
God's  punishment!     It  was  the  future  I  feared:  He 

396 


MESSENGERS 

has  taken  it  from  me.  I  can  suffer  at  ease  now,  know- 
ing the  end.  See  now,  I  have  confessed  to  you  the 
wrong  I  did  that  blind  child,  and  the  confession  has 
eased  me.  I  could  not  have  confessed  it  yesterday — 
the  burden  of  living  grows  lighter,  you  perceive.  I 
don't  repent ;  it  doesn't  seem  to  me  that  I  have  any 
use  for  repentance.  If  what  I  have  done  deserves 
punishment  in  another  world,  I  must  sutfer  it ;  but 
I  know  it  cannot  be  half  what  I  have  suffered  of  late. 
Xo,  cousin,  I  need  you  no  longer.  There  is  no  sting 
to  rankle,  now  that  hope — hope  for  my  boy — has  gone. 
I  can  rest  quiet  now,  with  my  own  damnation." 

She  put  out  a  hand,  protesting,  but  he  turned 
from  her — they  were  standing  face  to  face — and  open- 
ing the  door,  stood  aside  to  let  her  pass. 

"  I  thank  you  for  coming,"  he  said  gravely. 
"  What  I  have  told  you — about  the  inheritance,  I 
mean — will  be  no  secret  after  the  next  few  days." 

She  halted  and  looked  at  him  inquiringly.  "  It 
will  be  a  secret  safe  with  me/'  she  said.  Her  eyes 
still  searched  his. 

For  the  second  time  he  laughed.  "'  The  children 
will  be  home  in  a  few  days ;  I  wait  here  till  then. 
That  is  all  I  meant." 

In  the  dusk  by  the  ferry-slip  old  Daddo  stood 
ready  to  push  off.     Hester  was  the  only  passenger, 

397 


STIINIXG    FERRY 

for  it  was  Saturday,  and  on  Saturdays,  at  this  hour, 
all  the  traffic  flowed  away  from  the  town,  rcturiiii)g 
from  market  to  the  country. 

Her  eyes  were  red,  and  it  may  be  that  old  Daddo 
noted  this,  for  midway  across,  and  without  any  warn- 
ing, he  rested  on  his  oars,  scanning  her  earnestly. 

"  You  have  been  calling  on  Rosewarne,  miss  ? — 
making  so  bold." 

She  nodded. 

''  I  see'd  you  looking  t'ards  me  just  now  as  we 
crossed.  I  sce'd  you  glance  up  as  tlicy^  in  their 
foolishness,  was  reckoning  they  knew  the  mind  o' 
God.     Tell  me,  miss,  how  he  bears  it?  " 

"  He  bears  it ;  but  without  hope,  for  his  trouble 
goes  deeper." 


398 


CHAPTER    XXVII 


HOME 


Mk.  Benny,  arriving  next  morning  at  the  ferry 
to  cross  over  to  his  office,  opened  his  eyes  very  wide 
indeed  to  see  the  boat  waiting  by  the  slip  and  his 
late  master,  Samuel  Rosewarne,  standing  solitary 
within  it,  holding  on  to  a  shore-ring  by  the  boat-hook. 

"  But  whatever  has  become  of  Dadda  ?  "  Mr. 
Benny's  gaze,  travelling  round,  rested  for  one  mo- 
ment of  wild  suspicion  on  the  door  of  the  "  Sailor's 
Return,"  hard  by. 

"  With  your  leave  he  has  given  up  his  place  to 
me  for  a  while,"  said  Rosewarne  slowlv.  "  I  have 
come  to  ask  you  that  favour,  Mr.  Benny." 

The  little  man  stepped  on  board,  wondering,  nor 
till  half-way  across  could  he  find  speech. 

"  It  hurts  me  to  see  you  doing  this,  sir ;  it  does 
indeed.  If  old  Xicky  Vro  could  look  down  and  see 
you  so  denioaiiiiig  yourself,  you  can't  think  but  he'd 
say  'twas  too  much." 

"  I  did  Xicky  Vro  an  injury  once,  and  a  mortal 

39U 


SHINING    FERRY 

one.  But  I  never  gavo  him  license  to  know,  on  earth 
or  in  heaven,  Avhat  my  conscience  requires.  It  re- 
quires this,  Mr.  Benny  ;  and  unless  you  forbid  it,  we'll 
say  no  more." 

The  common  opinion  on  both  shores  was  that 
grief  had  turned  Rosewarne's  brain.  He  had  pre- 
pared himself  against  laughter ;  ])ut  no  one  laughed : 
and  though,  as  the  news  spread,  curiosity  brought 
many  to  the  shores  to  see,  the  groups  dispersed  as  the 
boat  approached.  Public  penance  is  a  rare  thing  in 
these  days,  and  all  found  it  easier  to  believe  that  the 
man  was  mad.  Some  read  the  Lord's  retributive 
hand  again  in  the  form  his  madness  took. 

In  silence  he  took  the  passengers'  coppers  or 
handed  them  their  change.  Few  men  had  ever  opened 
talk  with  Rosewarne,  and  none  were  bold  enough  to 
attempt  it  in  the  three  days  during  which  he  plied 
the  ferry. 

"You  left  him  lonely  to  his  sinning;  leave  him 
alone  now,"  said  old  Daddo,  tilling  his  cottage-garden 
up  the  hill,  to  the  neighbours  who  leaned  across  his 
fence  questioning  him  about  his  share  in  the  strange 
business.  His  advice  was  idle;  they  could  not  help 
themselves.  Something  in  Rosewarne's  face  forbade 
speech. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  he  saw  the  signal 
for  which  he  waited — the  smoke  of  a  tug  rising  above 

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HOME 

the  low  roofs  on  the  town  quay,  and  above  the  smoke 
the  top-gallants  and  royals  of  a  tall  vessel  pencilled 
against  the  sunset's  glow.  With  his  eyes  upon  the 
vision  he  rowed  to  shore  and  silently  as  ever  took  the 
fees  of  his  passengers  and  gave  them  their  change ; 
then,  having  made  fast  the  boat,  he  walked  up  to  Mr. 
Benny's  office. 

"  You  have  done  me  one  service,"  he  said.  "  I 
ask  you  to  do  me  a  second.  The  Virtuous  Lady  has 
come  into  port ;  in  five  minutes  or  less  she  will  drop 
anchor.  Take  boat  and  pull  to  her.  Tell  Mrs.  Pur- 
chase that  I  have  gone  up  the  hill  to  Hall,  and  will 
be  waiting  there ;  and  if  you  can  persuade  her,  bring 
her  ashore  in  your  boat." 

Mr.  Benny  reached  up  for  his  hat. 

"  Say  that  I  am  waiting  to  speak  with  her  alone. 
On  no  account  must  she  bring  the  children." 

Up  in  the  Widows'  Houses,  high  above  the  mur- 
mur of  the  little  port,  no  ear  caught  the  splash  as 
the  Virtuous  Lady's  anchor  found  and  held  her  to 
home  again.  In  Aunt  Butson's  room  Hester  sat  and 
read  aloud  to  her  patient.  The  book  was  the  Book 
of  Proverbs,  from  which  Aunt  Butson  professed  that 
she,  for  her  part,  derived  more  comfort  than  from  all 
the  four  Gospels  put  together.  For  an  hour  Hester 
read  on  steadily,  and  then,  warned  by  the  sound  of 

401 


SHINING   FERRY 

repilar  breathing,  glanced  at  the  bed  and  shut  the 
Bible. 

Rising,  she  paused  for  a  moment,  watching  the 
sleeper,  opened  and  closed  the  door  behind  her  gently, 
and  bent  her  steps  towards  Mrs.  Trevarthen's  room, 
at  the  far  end  of  the  gallery ;  bnt  on  the  way  her  eyes 
fell  on  a  group  of  daffodils  in  bloom  below,  in  the 
quadrangle.  Two  flights  of  stairs  led  up  from  the 
quadrangle,  one  at  either  end  of  the  gallery;  and 
stepping  back  to  the  head  of  that  one  which  mounted 
not  far  from  Aunt  Butson's  door,  she  descended  and 
plucked  a  handful  of  the  flowers.  Returning  to  the 
gallery  by  the  other  stairway,  she  was  more  than  a 
little  surprised  to  see  Mrs.  Trevarthen's  door,  at  the 
head  of  it^  almost  wide  open.  For  Mrs.  Trevarthen, 
worn-out  and  weary,  had  left  her  only  an  hour  ago 
under  a  solemn  promise  to  go  straight  to  bed,  and 
Hester  had  been  minded  to  arrange  these  flowers  for 
her  while  she  slept. 

"  Mrs.  Trevarthen  !  "  she  called  indignantly  from 
the  stair-head.  "  Mrs.  Trevarthen  !  What  did  you 
promise  me  ? " 

A  tall  figure,  dark  against  the  farther  window, 
rose  from  its  stooping  posture  over  the  bed  where 
Mrs.  Trevarthen  lay,  turned,  and  confronted  her  in 
the  doorway  wuth  a  glad  and  wondering  stare. 

"  Miss  Marvin  !  " 

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HOME 

"  Tom !  oh,  Tom !  "  cried  his  mother's  voice  with- 
in. "  To  think  I  haven't  told  you !  But  you  give 
me  no  time  !  " 

A  minute  later,  as  Hester  wallved  away  along  the 
gallery,  she  heard  his  step  following. 

"  But  why  wouldn't  you  come  in  ?  "  he  demanded, 
and  went  on  before  she  could  answer,  "  To  think  of 
your  being  Matron  here !  But  of  course  mother  had 
no  time  to  reach  me  with  a  letter," 

"  She  gave  me  yours  to  read,"  said  Hester  mis- 
chievously ;  whereat  Tom  flushed  and  looked  away 
and  laughed.  "  Tell  me,"  she  went  on.  "  What  did 
she  answer  ?  " 

"She?    Who?" 

"  Why,  Harriet — wasn't  that  her  name  ?  " 

"  There's  no  such  person." 

"  What  ?  Do  you  mean  to  say  it  was  all  a  trick, 
and  there's  no  Harriet  Sands  in  existence  ?  " 

"  You're  wrong  now.  There  is  a  Harriet  Sands, 
and  she  belongs  to  Runcorn  too ;  only  she's  a  ship." 

"  A  ship  ?  And  the  letter  you  made  me  write — 
it  almost  made  me  cry,  too — was  tJiat  meant  only  for 
a  ship  ?  " 

"  'No,  it  was  not — but  you're  laughing  at  me." 
He  turned  almost  savagely,  and  catching  sight  of 
something  in  her  eyes,  stood  still.  "  If  you  only 
knew — do  you  know  ?  " 

403 


SHINING    FERRY 

"  I  wish  I  did— I  think  I  do." 
He  caught  at  her  hands  and  clasped  them  over 
the  daffodils. 

"  If  ever  I'm  a  vs'idow,"  said  a  panting  voice  a 
few  paces  away,  "  if  ever  I'm  a  widow  (which  the 
Lord  forbid!),  I'll  end  my  days  on  a  ground  floor 
'pon  the  flat.  Companion-ladders  is  bad  enough  when 
you've  a  man  to  look  after ;  but  when  you've  put  'en 
away  and  can  take  your  meals  easy,  to  chase  a  be- 
reaved woman  up  a  hill  like  the  side  of  a  house,  an' 
then  up  a  flight  of  stairs,  for  five  shillings  a  week  and 
all  found— 0-oh  !  " 

Mrs,  Purchase  halted  at  the  stair-head ;  and  it  is 
a  question  which  of  three  faces  was  redder. 

"  0-oh !  "  repeated  Mrs.  Purchase.  "  Here  come 
I  with  news  enough  to  upset  a  town,  and  simmin' 
to  me  here's  a  pair  that  won't  value  it  more'n  a 
rush.  Well-a-well !  Am  I  to  go  away,  my  dears,  or 
wish  'ee  fortune  ?  You're  a  slv  fellow  too,  Tom 
Trevarthen,  to  go  and  get  hold  of  a  schoolmistress, 
when  'tis  only  a  little  schoolin'  you  w^ant  to  get  a 
certificate  and  be  master  of  a  ship.  That's  the  honest 
truth,  my  dear  " — she  turned  to  Hester.  "  'Twas 
he  that  worked  the  Virtuous  Lady  home,  and  if  you 
can  teach  'en  navigation  to  pass  the  board,  he  shall 
have  her  and  you  too.     Do  I  mean  it?     Iss,  fay, 

404 


HOME 

I  mean  it.    I'm  hauled  ashore.     'Tis  ^  Lord,  now  let- 
test  Thou  Thy  servant/  with  Hannah  Purchase." 

Late  that  evening  Clem  and  Myra  walked  hand 
in  hand,  hushed,  through  the  unkempt  garden — their 
garden  now,  though  to  their  childish  intelligence  no 
more,theirs  than  it  had  always  been.  They  might  lift 
their  voices  now  and  run  shouting  with  no  one  to 
rebuke  them.  They  understood  this,  yet  somehow 
they  did  not  put  it  to  the  proof.  Home  was  home,  and 
the  old  constraint  a  part  of  it. 

Late  that  same  evening  Samuel  Rosewarne  passed 
down  the  streets  of  Plymouth  and  unlatched  the 
door  of  a  dingy  house  which,  empty  of  human  love, 
of  childhood,  of  friendship,  was  yet  his  home  and  the 
tolerable  refuge  of  his  soul.  He  no  longer  feared 
himself.  He  could  face  the  future.  He  could  live 
out  his  life. 


405 


NOVELS  AND  STORIES  BY  "Q" 

THE   ADVENTURES   OF 
HARRY    REVEL 

A  STORY  of  plot  and  mystery  in  Mr.  Quiller- 
Couch's  most  fascinating  manner.  The 
scene  is  laid  on  the  coast  of  England  many 
years  ago,  and  the  picture  of  childhood  shown 
against  a  background  of  intrigue  is  one  of 
reality  and  charm, 

$1.50 


THE  WHITE  WOLF;    and 

Other  Fireside  Tales 

Twenty-one  Short   Stories 

"  As  a  teller  of  short  stories  'Q'  is  an  author 
of  infinite  variety  and  charm  unfailing.  His  inven- 
tion is  fertile  in  surprises,  and  his  conceits  are 
a  perpetual  delight." — New  York  Evening  Sun. 

$1.50 


THE   LAIRD'S   LUCK 

Eight  Stories 

"They  are  ingenious  and  original;  they  are 
written  with  '  Q's '  most  facile  and  descriptive 
pen." — The  Nation. 

$1.50 


NOVELS  AND  STORIES    BY    "Q" 

OLD    FIRES    AND    PROFIT- 
ABLE  GHOSTS 

Fifteen  Stories 

"  Whichever  story  makes  the  closest  appeal  to 
the  reader,  he  will  hardly  fail  to  find  somewhere 
the  power,  poetry,  and  dramatic  instinct  without 
morbidness,  of  which  a  book  by  this  author  always 
holds  the  promise." — New  York  Evening  Post. 

$1.50 


THE     SHIP    OF    STARS:      a 
Novel  of  the  Cornish  Coast 

"Mr.  Quiller-Couch  is  in  all  that  he  writes  an 
artist,  and  it  is  good  to  get  a  book  as  well  written 
as  is  'The  Ship  of  Stars.'  A  pleasant,  wholesome 
story  this,  full  of  the  salt-bracing  air  of  the  Cornish 
coast." — New  York  Sun. 

$1.50 


HISTORICAL    TALES   FROM 
SHAKESPEARE 

"  Mr.  Quiller-Couch  has  done  his  work  success- 
fully, making  entertaining  and  instructive  narra- 
tives, such  as  boys  and  girls  will  be  sure  to  relish. 
The  book  will  promote  a  genuine  interest  in  the 
plays  themselves. " — Congregationalist. 

$1.50 


JUN5 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  AT  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 

1943 


OCT  2  9  194'^ 
SEP  3    1940 

""^021388 


Form  L-0 
2f)m-3, '41(1122) 


CiflflH!? 


;-.jT 


UFOi 


3  1158  01258  0253 


FACIUTV. 


7a    000  368  375    2 


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